


Pack It In

by ThatSoChangeableChick



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alpha Talia Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Awesome Talia Hale, BAMF Talia, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Is Alive, Family Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Kinda, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mystery, POV Female Character, Pack Family, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Talia Hale Feels, Time Travel, True Alpha Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5311016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSoChangeableChick/pseuds/ThatSoChangeableChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little after Paige's sudden death, Derek is found in a coma.</p>
<p>And Talia sets out for answers, who is doing this to her son, why are their witches running amuck and why didn't she sense that rabid Omega on her treeline? Furthermore, who in goddess' name do the Mage's Pack think they are?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Conundrum

**Author's Note:**

> Yass, I've finally finished this. It's been sitting on my computer, half edited for about 6 months and I've finally finished it. I do absolutely love this story, even though I have noticed my writing ability has gone up I'm not denying you guys reading this because I love it. And there maybe a sequel in the works...
> 
> This is kinda an AU that came to mind, it has all the bits I love a magical!Stiles, People Being Alive, Derek!Feels, and duh, Talia Hale, whom I've decided I luuv. 
> 
> The work is unbeta'd so if there are any major issues (or tiny ones) then give me a PM, and I'll fix it right up. Also, I started writing this before I saw the trailer for the first part of season 5, soooo I've fixed some major bits to include stuff but overall this is kinda a future fic. I'm just messing with time here, in more than one sense - which brings me to the ages of the Hale Pack, a changed it up a bit because I really do not understand how many years there are between all of them.
> 
> Basically, this fic is my wildest teen wolf dreams.
> 
> Oh well, have fun ma lovelies *wave*

Talia ran a tight household. It was usually buffered and cleaned due to a mired of chores designated to the younger generation, every other Thursday even Peter had to help out.

Grandma Teresa spent entire days in her puckered cushioned rocking chair, knitting, doing crosswords and spying on those around her, all the valuable advice kept on her lips. Talia knew she had to be getting up sometime but the last time she’d sensed her Ma moving it had been a fortnight ago.

In fact she so rarely moved that even in a household brimmed with werewolves they forgot she was there.

Rebecca usually claimed the couch beside Ma, at least three books in her vicinity at all hours and glasses on her nose. As a werewolf Talia had thought it impossible that Rebecca require them but apparently even werewolf healing tired out when faced with a constant black on white.

Talia didn’t blame Matt for allowing Rebecca to pursue such hours with reading instead of fine-tuning her werewolf abilities.  As the only human of their siblings, her brother inserted himself into everything mystical forcefully and tried to get his daughter to play along.

She hadn’t.

Talia still insisted Rebecca come out each month to practice shifting in the wide expanses of the forest with the rest of the werewolves. Rebecca never did though fully approve and frequently stared longingly into the distance to where her books lay.

The Twins were a little easier to maneuver into activities, her Nephews were too young for werewolf trips but they were already insisting on going. It was a good sign, and Tommy, despite his humanity, would be tagging alongside Ollie as well. She wouldn’t dare separate them.

“The pasta’s overcooking,” Talia shifted her gaze to her Husband leaning in the doorway. She turned it off, tossing it around her spoon as Eric got the sauce from the pantry. “Something on your mind?” he asked.

Talia quirked a smile, “Not much no,” languidly shifting her arms over his shoulders. Derek was already getting his own pair of them but he hadn’t filled into them yet - the direly of adolescent.

Eric cracked a grin, his stubble shifting in the overhead light as he pecked her over the lips. Talia always kept her grazing fingers light; there wouldn’t be a repeat of when they’d first met which included a trip to the hospital under a very weak excuse.

“Mum, can I borrow twenty?” Laura breezed into the room, hair billowing around her shoulders and her eyebrows twisted at them. “Please,” she shrugged.

Talia exhaled, fitting her palms over her husband’s collarbone. “What do you need it for?” she asked.

“The movies,” Laura shrugged again, her heart beat steady.

She and Eric shared a look, deciding that they’d allow it this time. “It’s coming out your pocket money next time,” Eric stated.

Laura’s bottom lip jutted left and out, as it always did when faced with something she didn’t entirely approve of though didn’t have a weak enough basis to dispute over. “Fine,” she exhaled, “Thanks,” and picked it out of Eric’s fingers.

She fled into the living room, calling farewell to the unmoving figures on the comforting surfaces and dashed upstairs then down, a moment later the front door opened and slammed shut.

Talia released her pent up sigh, dunking the sauce inside the pasta. “We should have told her to stay for dinner,” she murmured.

Despite his human ears, Eric heard, as per usual, “Laura will eat out with some friends.” Teenagers, Talia agreed. Eric took the salad he cut earlier out of the fridge, “But I haven’t seen Derek yet? Is he taking a nap?”

Eric didn’t sound convinced, which was solid since the last time Derek had napped was when he was seven and he overexerted himself by getting lost in the woods surrounding the house.

Still, Talia picked her ears up and attempted to locate him, but he wasn’t in the house, in fact his scent was about ten hours old when he left for school in the morning.

“He’s not here is he?” Eric exhaled, thumbing circles atop the bridge of his hawked nose.

Talia wandered out, her mouth already cast down in preparation to go out on a hunt when dinner was getting cold. The living room predictably held two people, “Ma, did you know where Derek is?” Ma blinked, her tower of white hair tilting with shake. “Rebecca?” Talia asked. Nothing, Goddess help her, teenagers.

“Rebecca,” she added that virtue of Alpha to her tone.

Her Niece’s head popped up without even recognizing, her eyes following a moment later behind her large glasses. Her stare was very obviously ‘what’ though she held too much respect to actually say the words out loud.

“Do you know were Derek is?” she asked.

Rebecca shrugged, shoulders rolling out of sync until she realized that wouldn’t cut it. “I heard he wanted to go to the field after school but he should be back by now.”

Rebecca did glance out the window momentarily but whatever was inside the pages sucked her back.

“I’ll get the car keys,” Eric trotted off to do just that. Talia already caught the ping of worry in his scent.

She snapped up the phone and dialed in a familiar number as Eric tugged his shoes on. There was no answer. Cora wandered out the play room, Mr. Bubbles hanging from her fist. “Daddy, where you going?” she mouthed around her thumb.

Eric thumbed her cheek, the worry heightening in his scent soon drowned out by the familial affection. “Going to pick up your brother,” Eric stood, jingling his keys and kissed her on the forehead as Cora made to reach for him.

“I wanna be picked up,” Cora frowned as she came to the realization, thumb popping from her mouth.

Talia scooped up her youngest who sucked her thumb, bowing her head straight into her neck. She still held the scent of a baby, it was fading though and awfully quickly. Talia kissed her head and snuffled into her hair, receiving a giggle as payment.

Eric threw his coat on, stepping forward to catch one last kiss from Talia and another caress to Cora’s cheek before heading out to find their wayward son.

“Where’s Derek?” Cora asked, kicking her feet. It was the question of the evening, one that would be answered and then be sorely punished for.

The phone chimed delicately; in a house of werewolf children who woke up at cars zooming past on the freeway a couple dozen miles out, it had to be. Matt picked it up, shuffling down the stairs with it pressed to his ear. “Just set the kids down,” he whispered, handing it over and righting his thick glasses.

He had the look of a man who’d missed one to many meals due to illegal experimentation. In truth he’d missed one to many meals due to the amount of inane facts he’d been digging up since he’d first found an encyclopedia at age six.

Talia always wondered how she would look if she were human, and taking in her brother’s gangly limbs and messy hair she designed it better this way. She wouldn’t be able to pull that off, especially with how little sleep she got.

“Talia,” Deaton greeted over the phone and she smiled, jiggling Cora to keep her stimulated. “How have you been?” he asked.

He always attempted to keep up pleasantries and while sometimes she appreciated the moments to stall, there really wasn’t one now. “Little worried in fact, Derek didn’t come home tonight. Do you know something?”

Talia didn’t know which would be worse.

“I do actually,” Deaton sighed and she heard Laura breathing heavily in the distance. Talia froze. If it was something really bad he would have told her in person, was about the only thing keeping her breaths even. “Laura found Derek beside the school; he seems unconscious and hasn’t woken up since we brought him into a warmer temperature.”

Talia passed Cora into her brother’s hands; he fumbled and cuddled her tighter as he nearly tripped over his own toes. “Peter,” she said, knowing her little brother would hear. He was in his room, prone to sulking and making jabs over her status as Alpha. She would have to talk to him about it sooner or later.

“What did he say?” Matt asked.

Talia threw her coat on as Peter waddled down the stairs, his eyebrows raised in question. “Derek’s at Deaton’s, Laura found him. I suppose we’ll know more once we get there.”

“We,” Peter sighed. Talia tossed him his coat, all for appearances sake since despite the snow piling up outside it wouldn’t be stronger than a winter breeze for them.

He tugged it on, fumbling over the cuffs until it looked suitably worn and stylish. Talia would never understand her little Brother. “I need you to find Eric, he took the Camaro, and then head over to-“

“Deaton’s, yeah I got it.”

Matt elbowed Peter hard for the disrespect; it probably even hurt a little due to Matt’s experience for hitting the right places. He’d had to learn them pretty quickly when they would play in the yard and were prone to shifting without notice.

Lately Talia had been receiving all types of ballsy, disrespectful statements, and it was only because he was her little Brother that he wasn’t getting swiped for it. She would have to sooner or later because there was a dangerous bitterness in their link.

Cora sensed it as well and pointedly glared at her uncle, it was actually pretty adorable. Talia unlocked the door, “Get out,” she jutted her head.

Peter exhaled shiftily and trotted out, soon bounding out into the thick snow on the Camaro’s scent. “Hold down the fought Mattie,” Talia murmured.

He nodded, back straightening immediately, “Got it Alpha.” Talia actually appreciated it that he named her such sincerely.

She shut the door, the dark night illuminated by the half-moon reflecting on the piles of snow. It stained every inch and tended to blur obstacles together when fast pacing.

But her son’s link was weakening as the seconds passed, minuscule at first but he was feeling weaker, as if something was stealing portions of his energy. Talia leaped over any blockade in her path, sensing the majority of humans inside their households and the lone few outside busy attempting to walk in the snow to spot her galloping over cars and speeding down streets.

She arrived at Deaton’s first; Laura’s perfume was fading beneath her stark concern. Talia allowed herself inside, knocking on the wall when she found the Mountain Ash gate shut.

Deaton padded out from the brightly lit room in the back, unlocking the door and allowing her through. “I’m still in the process of discerning what exactly is happening to him.”

Derek lay straight upon the metal table, thick comforters draping over each side. His heartbeat was steady, slow but steady, as if he were sleeping and there was no fizzle of magical herbs.

Laura pounded into her arms, burying her nose just over Talia’s breast as she held in tears. Talia embraced her daughter back fiercely, “We’ll figure out what’s going on,” she whispered into her hair. “Deaton,” she alerted louder, waddling inside with her eldest flung over her chest. “What do you know?”

Deaton took a place at Derek’s side, an array of instruments on the metal board by his side. “His coloring is paler than I would have liked and from his temperature when he arrived, I’d say he’d been in the snow for several hours.” He pressed his fingers to Derek’s throat and Talia halted the growl in her own, “His pulse is steady and hasn’t dropped or risen since Laura found him. For all extents and purposes, he’s fast asleep.”

“He’s getting weaker,” Talia sensed it in that part of her that made her Alpha. Laura sniffled into her chest, pulling away to gather herself and began smoothing the blankets over Derek’s still form.

Talia pressed her fingers to his forehead, it was warm and a little wet from the dried snow that had no doubt been there. He hadn’t been sleeping much since his first love had died, so at least when he woke up he would be well rested. “What do you mean by that?” Deaton questioned politely.

She always forgot she was required to elaborate, “I can feel it. Something’s taking his energy,” Laura fisted the blankets, her fangs half way out her mouth. Talia still had to teach her better control. “Perhaps it’s a spell of some kind, a ritual? I can’t sense any herbs or any stranger or any magic.”

Deaton hummed, waiting for her approval before lifting Derek’s eyelids. “It’s very likely but still extremely difficult to target someone magically from afar, I haven’t heard of anyone capable of doing that but I’ll look into it.”

The back door opened and shut, Eric’s concern wafting over her followed by mild un-comfortableness on Peter’s behalf. Eric opened the Ash gate and shut it behind them. “Deaton,” Eric greeted with a nod, observing everything before squeezing Talia’s hand and peering over their son.

He raked over Derek until finally quietly uttering, “He looks like he’s sleeping.”

“He is,” Deaton replied, “We just don’t know why yet.”

Peter hung in the doorway, “So what now?” Appearing for all intents and purposes bored, Talia caught the sharp flash of irritation directed by Laura. If those two began fighting again she was only getting involved at lethal injury.

Eric inhaled, relaxed; calculating for all intents and purposes but his fingers squeezed hers as he gazed at their son. “We take him home,” it was semi poised as a question and Talia nodded.

“Keep us updated on what you find or suspect Deaton,” Talia warned. She handed Deaton the blankets in a scrunched pile, scooping her only son into her chest and snuffled inside his short hair. He really could just be sleeping.

Deaton nodded, “Of course, Alpha Hale.” He hesitated before adding, “I also expect to be updated at any change or new road of thought to pursue.”

Talia made her way out, Laura at her heel and awaited Eric, who nodded at Deaton, to open the Ash gate. She loaded her son into the back of the Camaro, allowing Laura to ride with him and Eric, while Talia and Peter walked back.

Her link to her closest family shifted the further they were away though they were in territory so Talia took this time to have that chat Peter so required. “We need to talk,” she stated.

Peter ducked his head, catching up with her long stride but he was still taking the effort to dig his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know why you do that,” she gestured at his hidden hands. “You’re amongst Pack, you don’t pretend in Pack.”

He didn’t deign her with a response; probably because it would be too rude if the bitterness flaring up on their link was anything to go by. Talia had seen this coming actually, “You want to be Alpha,” her breath clouding in the cold.

It caught his attention at least, a bundle of hope joining that bitterness. Talia growled, more for sake of frustration than possessiveness, but Peter flinched nevertheless. “You know that’s not how becoming Alpha works,” she said.

His lip curled until he hid it again. Talia didn’t know what they’d done wrong with Peter, how family was heading second behind his need to become Alpha. “Am I going to be doing all the talking?”

Peter worked his jaw but avoided her eyes, “I’ll be twenty soon.”

This was so frustrating, Talia wasn’t Ma, she didn’t have endless patience and Peter had a tendency to spout everything else but the center of the problem at hand. “So will Laura,” Talia returned, in two years but still.

The only option was to wait him out. An option Talia disliked greatly, especially with her family in such a crisis. But maybe Peter needed to see that, see that he was also important enough to set aside a crisis.

It took until their street inside the forest for Peter to actually say what was on his mind. “I feel weak,” he admitted, hints of fangs in his cheeks.

Talia couldn’t recall the last time they hugged, usually their links were enough of a figurative hug but it’s been a long time since Talia had been overpowered with affection and love from his link.

Talia braced her nose against his thundering pulse, her little Brother’s arms tightening over her back. “You’re not weak,” he stiffened. “I mean it, you just haven’t found what makes you feel strong yet, we’ll find it.”

Peter chuffed, his fingers worming into her sides. “Yeah, yeah, wise one,” he mocked. It wasn’t bitter though or for cruel purposes.

He was definitely feeling better.

Talia scratched at his neck and he winced with a snuffle. “I’m extremely wise,” she told him, withdrawing with a final massage over his shoulders. Peter had always been a little less defined than the rest of them and perhaps that enforced his belief of weakness.

“We could train,” Talia offered as they continued to walk. Peter’s hands disappearing into his pockets again, “Once Derek’s back.”

His heart spurred quickly but he made every act to appear casual, “If you want.” Talia really had no inkling as to where Peter had found that pride.

All the lights inside blared the house, a bustle of moving shadows in Derek’s bedroom. Nearly everyone was inside, except Ma – who had a magazine in her hands which she didn’t have earlier - and the twins – tucked and snorting into their matresses.

Peter yanked off his coat as she shut the door, trailing inside to greet Ma. This wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time her pack dealt with a crisis. But there was something extremely aggravating about her only Son being targeted. It was an aggravation that would no doubt end with her ripping the culprit’s spine.

Derek hadn’t been one to keep his room clean and Matt was in the process of setting things off to side so the family could gather around him. Laura had stolen his hand and refused to relinquish it. Rebecca on the other hand kept her distance to retain a glare over Derek, as if expecting the answers to reveal themselves under the right pressure.

Eric sat beside Derek’s knee, Cora sucking her thumb and sniffling every so often in his lap. “Peter alright?” Eric asked. Course he knew what they’d discussed, in fact it was probably likely he noticed the bitterness before Talia did.

She nodded, kissing his temple and smoothing some of Cora’s hair behind her ear, Mr. Bubbles clutched in her grip.

The room was warm, particularly because of the abundance of werewolves inside but there was no change to Derek’s pallor. Eric’s thick brows were furrowed while he said, “We should take turns, keeping an eye on him for any changes.”

Matt nodded, “Great idea,” a jersey, some jeans and a notebook in his arms he stood at Talia’s elbow. “We’ll get to the bottom of this in no time; I’ll pop out some books and compare symptoms.”

A schedule was set up, one which Cora protested to considering she wasn’t listed and it was due past her bedtime. Talia took the first watch, sending Laura down to have dinner and call her friends over the plans that went awry. Rebecca stowed after her father and it wasn’t a few minutes later that she heard her slinking into Matt’s private library to solve this before her Dad.

Eric was taking second, taking the time to stay in touch with Deaton and finish off paperwork. Matt would be third as the kid’s went off to school, Laura when she got back, followed by Peter and then Rebecca.

Until it started back up again, although Talia hoped it really wouldn’t.

Eric was set to relieve her in a few minutes when she heard a faint scuffle. Talia straightened on her feet, nose to the air and ear perked. It wasn’t inside the house, and the force of the winds sheltered it somewhat but just at the edge of their tree line, there was a fight going on.

“Eric!” Talia yelled, her husband’s chair slammed on the floor as he rushed out of his study. “There’s someone fighting on the perimeter,” It had to be connected. No one else would dare get so close to the heart of their territory. Not unless they’d already dared to harm her son.

Laura’s footfalls were loud as she landed beside her, dressed in her pajama pants and a tight vest. She’d already shifted though and while Talia could stop her; it wasn’t the time to fight. The numbers would be advantageous against the intruders.

Peter took a more sedated pace to the foyer, a deep rumbling growl working its way out of his throat.

Talia allowed her fangs out one at a time, “You’re in charge Ma.” She stalked into the storm, Peter and Laura protecting her blind spots in an instinctual Beta formation.

It was harder to differentiate sounds with the wind pulverizing against her ears; the scents bustling around were all of cold and woods and frightened woodland creatures. But she didn’t require any of that, the battling duo were clear as day behind the first row of trees.

Werewolves, most definitely, but she hadn’t sensed them encroaching on her territory and her fur sprouted with a shivering roar.

The werewolves halted, until the crouched, more wild of the two attacked the other with a large swipe, spraying bloodied guts over the trees. His barking laugh scratched in his throat and he fled to the wind, blood dripping down his teeth.

Talia and her Beta’s came forward, the snow having disturbed any distinguishing features of the werewolves. The stench of blood and cooper was thicker, the wind failing to soak it inside its scent.

The injured werewolf whimpered, flickering out of their vision with fierce haste and tracking the path the other werewolf had vanished off to.

A roar ripped out her throat one of her darkest warnings to remain out of her territory or pay the consequences. Laura was snarling quietly, trying to suck her anger back inside but failing.

Peter’s fur rippled back into his skin only to come forward and sniff out the freshest splatter of blood. Talia didn’t expect the confusion she received through their link, “I must be scenting wrong,” he murmured.

Talia took a large sniff and her heart growled Pack. More to the point, her heart growled Derek. It was different definitely; there was an overtone of grief which was being washed out by the wind, and the person wearing his scent was older, his blood stronger than her Son’s.

She had to talk to her Pack before making any moves. It couldn’t be as simple as the culprit stealing Derek’s belongings, because the scent had originated from his blood.

Talia raced back towards the house, catching Eric on the phone with Deaton and Matt taking watch beside Derek. “What’s wrong?” Eric pressed down on the receiver.

Talia almost laughed, a lot was wrong, but she asked for the phone and pressed it against her ear. “Deaton,” her voice was rough from her roar. Peter shut the door behind them as Laura bounced on her heels, ducking into Eric’s side for a one armed hug. “There were two werewolves extremely close to our house just now.”

“Eric alerted me, yes,” Deaton replied.

Talia swept her gaze over her worried pack, “One of them smelled like Derek. What are we dealing with here?”

Deaton was quiet for a long while, “Are you positive?” He didn’t sound like he wanted to ask though his curiosity was getting the better of him. He was rummaging around his tombs if the slab of them on steel was anything to go by.

“Extremely,” she growled and massaged her aching forehead. “It wasn’t his clothes either, his blood smelled of Derek. How is that possible?”

Deaton flipped pages, “I’m assuming some kind of Energy Transfer Ritual. For the Ritual to be so targeted they’d have to be some compatibility between the two, but to what extent I can’t say for certain.”

Laura whimpered into Eric’s side, and he wrapped her into a tighter hug while she buried her head and kept her ears alert. “So you’re saying that this person is using my son to powerhouse him because their alike?”

“I can’t be certain of the purpose of the transfer, not until I know what kind it is exactly.”

“I’ll find out,” Talia promised, moments away from hanging up and catching the culprit for answers.

“Wait,” Deaton inhaled as she set it back against her ear, “Derek’s not alone in being affected by this Transfer.”

Talia growled at him until he elaborated. “Around the time Derek fell unconscious, another child was brought into hospital for suddenly dropping comatose.”

Talia wasn’t pleased by the news, “So the person stealing from Derek has a partner in this?”

“It seems extremely possible,” Deaton sighed, “I’ll be going over early morning to assess the child myself to be certain.”

It sounded like a Witch’s plot and Talia hated Witches, especially if there was a duo of them running around. “Keep us posted,” Talia ordered, hanging up.

“We’re heading out, right?” Laura squeezed her Dad one last time. Peter perked up from where he leaned against the wall.

Talia nodded, cupping her Husband’s cheek. “Ask Ma about what Deaton told us, I’ll explain it better when I get back.” Eric exhaled, he wasn’t pleased about it but he was unfortunately used to this when they were under timed pressure.

Eric kissed the corner of her mouth, against one of her fangs. “Stay safe,” it was an order because if they didn’t he’d be retrieving the wolf’s bane guns and joining them.

Peter flung open the door, head snapping to the side as his fur burst from his skin. Laura bounded out after him, closely followed by Talia who trailed her fingers over Eric’s hairy arm.

Laura shifted with a sharp intake of air beside the splatter of blood, the wind had been doing it’s hardest to cover the trail. “Stay close by,” Talia ordered and bowed on all fours to catch the scent.

In a burst they’d vanished from the tree line, she spotted the splatters of fleeing blood and the scent of the other werewolf, wild and unhinged before they broke off into two directions.

Talia didn’t pause, her claws breaking the hard packed snow as they bordered the highway and while the blood had stopped the storm was a little lighter in the open skies and it was simple to catch the scent she’d birthed to, no matter how warped it was.

It led towards a bright red light, smaller lights flickering behind the snow. It was one of the motels out skirting Beacon Hills, it wasn’t the best either. Witches’ were usually a tad vainer over their sleeping arrangements but depending on the strength of the duo, any dump could become a palace.  

The Snatcher had trailed up the snowed in staircase winding the front of the motel, a drop of blood having made its way onto a step. Talia gestured for them to head in front, and Laura scented out the right door.

It was number 13. At least the Witches’ had irony because there wouldn’t be much left when she’d finished.

Peter took the running plow through the door with a grin, the inside’s warmth drifting out alongside a startled yelp and the toppling of an armchair.

Laura scavenged inward and the Witch shouted, “Hold you damn horses Missy.”

Talia entered at a much more sedated pace, nodding at Peter whose chest heaved from exhilaration. It definitely wasn’t a palace, in fact she scented urine on the bed sheets and other fluids she really wished she didn’t.

Laura’s link shook with fury born of concern and frustration, her teeth snapping at the Witch’s neck. “Laura,” Talia ordered her back quietly and she dropped the Witch like fire and locked her arms.

It was unnaturally still as Peter locked the door. The only sounds the heartbeats of her Beta’s, and the thundering one of the Witch. It wasn’t a natural thump, probably magically induced to hide the skip of his heartbeat for lies.

The Witch staggered onto his feet, for all intents and purposes searching for an escape route or for the wall to swallow him whole. His palms were shaking and even the hairs along his arms were raised.

But Talia knew that the Snatcher had disappeared inside this room. More to the point, the Snatcher’s scent ended in this room, as if it completely vanished from existence.

“Where’s your partner?” Talia asked. She could be civil, it wouldn’t last for long but she would be civil.

The Witch startled at the question, breathing shakily as if the words were stuck. “Partner?” he squeaked.

Laura growled and the Witch flinched into the gritty wall paper.

He swallowed, “I’m alone, all alone, thanks for bringing that up-“

Talia snarled, it didn’t sound like a lie but they’d tracked the Snatcher to this room. Her son lay in bed, unable to awaken due to something this Witch was doing, but if she was going to get it out of him…

It only took one deep inhale to find all the proof she needed. The Witch had the sickly sweet scent of Magic and no abundance of weak soap and air freshener could hide it. “You must have emptied the whole can to try and hide it,” Talia huffed.

But it hadn’t succeeded. The Witch played dumb in refusal to cooperate, one eyebrow raised. “Hide what?” his squeak was confused.

“The Magic, Witch,” Talia growled.

That stopped the Witch.

He was extremely animated, broadcasting his thoughts in quick bursts. He visibly mulled the truth over, shrugged to himself, lifted his brows, crossed his arms and awaited their verdict.

“Well, you got me,” It didn’t bother him. “Actually, you kind of didn’t, I’m a Mage, not a Witch.” He jazzed up his fingers, “Ta da.”

His heart remained that thundering tempo but he didn’t seem bothered, in fact, he seemed perfectly relaxed and young. He had to be younger than Peter. “You’ll be dead if you don’t answer our question,” Peter alerted.

They’d have to have a chat over Peter’s speaking out of turn. It would have to wait and perhaps the Mage shutting it down would be enough to stop further outbursts.

Because the Mage was laughing, laughing as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever had the misfortune of hearing. Laura’s growl pitched, “Don’t huff and puff too hard, big bad.” He set himself off into another gaggle of chuckles, clutching his stomach as the last of it finally wheezed out of him.

“We have you trapped,” Talia mentioned, “So how about you take this time to tell me what you’ve done to my Son.” It wasn’t a request.

The Mage picked up his tipped over cup of juice and set in on the table as he righted the armchair. “Listen, I’m not going to do that. I have good reasons for doing what I’m doing; you’ve just got to trust me.”

“Trust you!” Laura snarled.

Talia would have to have word with both of them over holding their tongue. She licked her fang, “If they’re such good reasons then tell me.” Nearly every supernatural creature, when faced with an Alpha’s stare, caved.

Of course, this Mage didn’t. He cocked a crooked grin, “Maybe not that good, and you’re not my Alpha.”

Talia felt a primal dying need to rip his innards out. It was curbed only by the knowledge that his magic didn’t smell evil or cruel and that this boy had the answers. “Then listen to me as a mother. You’re draining my son, Derek; swear to me on your magic that he’ll survive this.”

His grin faltered with his amusement, shifting instead to empathetic calculation. In the end, he shrugged apologetically, “I can’t do that.” He raised his palms in surrender when both she and Laura’s growl pitched higher, “I really wish I could but I can’t.”

Peter stalked forward, “Not good enough,” he growled around fangs.

The Mage’s sharp gaze cast over Peter as his arms locked over his chest, “It’s going to have to be.”

His sickly sweet scent erupted beneath his skin, her lunging swipe too slow to catch the vanishing Mage.

She hated Magic.

Laura sneezed.

Talia cuffed them both over their ears and Laura whined in response as Peter hissed. “What have I told you two about speaking up in delicate situations with creatures we don’t know?”

Her Daughter pouted at her shuffling feet while Peter took it upon himself to respond, “Not to,” he told the armchair.

“We’re lucky he didn’t turn you into toads,” Laura squished her nose to stop her amusement. “Or something,” Talia exhaled. Really goddess help her, she had no idea what she was doing. “Head on home you two, tell the rest what happened.”

Laura tried one of her bright grin, “Sure Mum.” Talia nodded her head, catching Peter’s gaze over the top of her head and handing him a pointed look. It was extremely clear Talia expected Peter to keep Laura safe.

Not even residue teenage rebellion could fight their Alpha’s orders and the two had hitched into the snow without another word.

Talia studied the room, ending up by the phone and redialing the final number. It was to the front desk, “Yes?” She hung up, dialing in Deaton’s unfortunately familiar number.

“Deaton,” she greeted, parking on the armchair the Mage had just vacated.

“Alpha Hale, I haven’t been able to specify anything further since we last spoke,” he sounded tired. Talia checked the clock and found it much past midnight. He’d be receiving a fruit basket in apology that was a good present.

“I have though,” she said. Alan Deaton shuffled under his blankets; there was a cricket just outside his window. “We trailed the Werewolf who’s snatching Derek’s energy towards one of the motels near the town and found his partner, calls himself a Mage.”

Deaton remained silent for a long moment until, “That’s not good.”

Talia had actually expected this and had the migraine to prove it, “Elaborate.”

“Witches tend to band together, drawing magical energy through their partnerships and bonds. Mages, on the other hand,” his heartbeat flittered. “Can find magical energy in most things, organic or not. It makes them much more independent and from my experience, much more unpredictable.”

“There has to be a way to guard Derek from his influence,” Talia objected. Whatever magic had shielded the room from the elements of winter had completely faded and bark thrashed against the lone window. It was a test to the Mage’s skill that it’d lasted so long.

“If it were a Sorcerer all we’d have to do is find the spelled herbs he’d planted on Derek but Mages’ don’t work in the physical realm. Frankly, there just haven’t been enough documented cases of Mage Craft for me to accurately hand you any information regarding blocking them.”

Talia growled when her migraine spiked. Derek’s link weakened each second. She kept trying to sense where his energy disappeared to but she couldn’t catch it. “Is there any way I can follow the path his energy is heading towards? I can sense it leave but I can’t catch it.”

Deaton scribbled it on a pad, “I’ll look into it. Do try and get some sleep, I suspect you’ll want to visit the other child with me later on today.”

“I’ll see you then,” Talia hung up, putting away her claws to scratch up her face. Her Pack’s links were bounded and warm, all running home. She’d join them soon enough but first; Talia headed into the Motel’s dingy reception and flicked the bell.

An overweight human wobbled out the back office, “Can I help you?” he didn’t seem particularly eager to do so.

Talia braced her arms against the counter, “I’d like to see your cameras’ recording’s please.” Bill, as his name tag claimed, glanced at the duo of cameras in the corners behind him. “Or I can call sanitation?”

Bill blinked and sucked in a large lazy breath, languidly making his way towards the office. He clicked the recorder and plodded it on the counter top, “It reset itself 21 hours ago.” That was easier than expected. “I’ll need a fee,” he said.

See this, this is what she expected.

Talia set her claws on it, his puzzled expression finding her crimson eyes and he flinched back. Talia tucked it inside her waist band, “Wouldn’t want to leave a money trail.”

Bill’s long goatee nodded hastily alongside his head. Talia spared him a sharp smile and walked into the snow storm.

Her trail home was whiter than earlier, the video attempting mad dashes to escape her waistband. She growled over the bloodied splatter at their tree line, slinking inside the warm foyer.

Matt stumbled out the kitchen, almost tipping his coffee. “Good to see you’re back,” he shoved his thick glasses further up his nose. “Pete and Laura told us what happened with the Mage,” he bypassed Ma knitting away in her chair despite the hour.

Talia handed him the video, “Think you can set that up in the VCR.” Matt broke into a wobbly grin and began setting it up just as her husband palmed his forehead and shuffled down the stairs. “How’s he doing?” she could sense it wasn’t any better.

Eric gathered a deep inhale and attempted to smile but it tilted at the edge and didn’t light up his eyes. “No better but I wouldn’t say much worse.” Talia squeezed his fingers, “I sent Laura and Peter off to bed. What did you find?”

She guided him inside the living room, checking that all the children were slumbering or at least, close to dosing. Laura was fighting it but would be under soon enough.

Matt pushed the video inside and sipped his coffee, handing Talia the remote. “It’s a long shot but I took the security cameras’ from the front entrance,” she forwarded the tape. “Hopefully we can get a shot of the Mage’s partner.”

Talia squeezed up beside her husband as Matt plodded beside her so they could stare at the gritty format of the small television. “Wait,” Eric pointed. He definitely got a description of the Mage out of Laura because there the kid was, bouncing around beside a slightly taller muscular figure buried under a cap and shrouded in a large coat.

“You think he’s the werewolf?” Matt whispered.

Talia had this absurd reasoning that if she strained her ears enough she’d hear them, chatting just outside of her vision. The back of Bill’s balding head entered the frame, handing the two of them a room key.

The Mage replied with laugher, butting his elbow against the Werewolf’s. He actually leaned in closer to the Mage, his fists tight in his pocket. Talia could just make out the top of a grinning fang with a stubbly chin.

She thumbed pause at the clearest picture of the Werewolf who was leeching energy from her child.

“They’re Pack,” Eric mumbled. Talia pressed her fingers to his jaw at the cold anger, unable to soften it completely. Matt made a disbelieving sound. Eric didn’t take offence, “Werewolves only relax like that with Pack.”

Talia and Matt had grown up with Pack; sometimes it took a different perspective to see what was already there. Her Husband was the greatest.

“The Mage said I wasn’t his Alpha.” It hadn’t been jibe, it had been a confession.

“Mother Loving Goddess,” Matt pinched at the wrinkles between his eyebrows. Ma coughed and Matt grimaced, bottom lip jutted out. He cleared his throat, “The Mage is part of a bordering Pack.”

It wasn’t set in stone though, not yet. There wouldn’t be any panicking while the facts weren’t certain. But no matter what, “They’re not stealing our territory,” Talia affirmed.

She tucked into Eric’s chest and hummed as he massaged her ribs. Mattie jostled his cheek, “Maybe Mages can’t even be part of a Pack. I’ll look into it,” and Matt plodded off, shutting the door of the library with too much force.

“I once knew a Mage.”

Ma’s needles clacked as she worked. That information alone must have been difficult to release. Talia didn’t hold much hope for her next question, “Are you going to tell me about them?” Eric made a low huffing sound at the notion.

“It’s not my place, dear,” Ma replied. She cast Eric a knowing glance, easily returning to knit.

If Talia wasn’t so exhausted she might have pushed, but she was, so Talia didn’t. Instead, she collapsed into the cold sheets with her amazing Husband, grumbling until he climbed inside.

Mattie had relocated to study stacks of books in Derek’s room, her Pack bundled and home. Talia didn’t drift to sleep, so much as collide with it headfirst when her nose lined the delicate skin under her Husband’s jaw.


	2. The Complication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> earlier when I said I started this 6 months ago. I apparently meant to say 9 months ago and I started editing it 6 months ago...I don't even know what's wrong with me anymore.
> 
> But
> 
> This is my newborn baby now, bloated and reddish (with blood) - I hope you him as much as I do.  
> In this chapter, i truly fell in love with Mattie, he's a grand grand person who I occasionally giggle over.

Talia tripped into Derek’s room, her fingers finding his pale cheek. He was still here. He wasn’t waking up, why wasn’t her Son waking up? “Talia,” Eric alerted from Derek’s bedside.

Exhaustion lined the worry on her Husband’s face, open tomes propped over the bedside table and his lap. Talia sucked in a dry breath to calm down, “I didn’t feel him,” she revealed. Talia couldn’t recall her dream but she’d noticed the moment her Son’s link had faded in her grasp.

“That’s just a dream,” Eric set the books aside and pressed a morning kiss to her cheek. “How about I get you some tea?” he squeezed her shoulder, just before stretching tall to reveal the hairs over his stomach.

Talia nodded, breeching a smile in his direction as he shuffled down the stairs to do as he promised. She tried to inhale her Son’s scent but that too was fading from lack of movement and emotions struggling within him. He wasn’t even sweating.  “You better wake up,” she whispered into his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple.

At least the scent of grief and guilt clinging to him were vanishing as well.

Matt yawned in the doorway; his glasses clinked where his palm shoved at them. “Still no change?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Talia almost growled.

Her brother opened Derek’s curtain, exposing the blanket of white beamed upon by the morning sunlight. “You’re heading over with Deaton to see that other kid today, maybe there will be a lead there?” he sounded hopeful.

“Hopefully,” But even if there was another kid in Derek’s position it didn’t do much good. It only made the Mage responsible for two comatose children.

Matt hesitated, peering down at Derek with a worried wobble to his lips. “Why do you think they’re doing this, the Mage and the Werewolf?” He’d been picking his nails again and his fingers were searching for purchase for another round.

It wasn’t for any evil intention. Dark magic, no matter who did it, had a particular bitterly sharp and rotten scent that was impossible to hide. But anyone who messed with the lives of two children and their family weren’t here from the goodness of their heart. “I don’t know,” she growled because she would find out.

“What about that other Werewolf?” Matt butted in. Her brows furrowed into her vision. “The Wild Werewolf, fighting the one who led you back to the Mage.”

Talia parked on Derek’s bed the cold of his body latching onto her heat and buried her head in her hands. She’d forgotten a possible lead, everything with the Mage had thrown her for a loop and she just wanted some goddess damned answers.

“I don’t know,” her nose twitched as she tried to recall his scent. There was a lot of charred smoke, as if his brain had worked itself burnt but the wildness was indisputable. “He’s an Omega,” she said.

The Mage and the Werewolf were fighting an Omega. They’d been on her tree line before she’d even noticed him. Perhaps they’d stopped him, but even if they did, her pack could handle an unhinged Omega – it wouldn’t be the first time – and it didn’t explain her Son’s condition.

Eric entered with a creak of the hallway’s wood handing her a to-go cup of tea while he sipped his coffee in a mug. “You’re meeting with Deaton in 20 minutes,” he said and sat back down in the chair he’d hogged most of the night.

Talia found Derek’s hand under the blanket and squeezed it once. “I’ll come relieve you once I drop the kids off,” Matt told Eric.

“Take your time,” Eric admitted, his gaze never straying from their Son. Talia gave her brother a one armed hug and kissed his neck. He chuckled at the reminiscent of their childhood when she’d blown raspberries into his jaw, and trotted out the door. His exhaustion now tinted with laughter.

She squeezed her husband’s shoulder, “It’ll be over soon.” Whether the Mage would be alive to witness it was still up for question but their Son would definitely be there to call in a vote.

Eric’s deep mahogany eyes found her with a hopeful smile, faith melting in the creases of his forehead. “I know,” he bowed his cheek into her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her collar and breathed in. Talia massaged the balls of his shoulders and sipped her tea.

By the time she left, Talia was prepared to rip out the Mage’s throat for his inability to be clear. Deaton didn’t approve of this plan and lead her towards the Children’s Ward in the Beacon Hills Hospital.

It was early enough that there weren’t many people milling about but a few beds had woken up and needed attention. Talia did her best to not breathe in the sharp scents, the medicinal bitterness, the putrid illnesses and the wisps of poison but they were overpowering. Alongside the incessant beeping of machines, and the drops ticking every few seconds, it was enough to drive a less experienced Werewolf into the forest.

“Here,” Deaton nodded, extracting her from the haze of information. He turned into a room where a lone boy slept in the furthest bed. Deaton opened the blinds to the morning rays and drifted over his chart.

Talia shut the door behind them, “Where’s his family?” He was too young to be all alone but further in she smelt the stark concern of a worried Father, tinged by stale alcohol.

“He has a Father who’s just left for his office, we have about half an hour,” Deaton responded. He spread the papers down, “He seems to be experiencing the same symptoms as Derek, including the perpetual decrease of body temperature.”

He was younger than Derek, probably hadn’t reached his tenth year yet. Extraordinarily pale with a patch of warmth over his hand where his Father had gripped it all night. “He responds to the name Stiles,” Deaton hung the chart back over the bed frame. “The doctors think he’s comatose due to an imbalanced dose of ADHD medication.”

There weren’t any remains of medicine inside his symptoms, exempting the I.V. drip. She huffed, “Do you have any idea which Ritual is doing this?” Talia asked.

Deaton shrugged, “All I can I positively say is that it’s an Energy Transfer Ritual.” They’d been this way before, “But it’s a sub-group of Rituals and inside it are over a thousand different variations with different purposes.”

Talia skimmed a finger over the Boy’s cheek. It didn’t sit right with her, the amount of resemblance she found in the Boy’s features. There wasn’t just compatibility there was family resemblance with the Mage. “You’ve found something?" Deaton asked.

“The Mage and Stiles have to be related somehow,” Talia took a deep smell. Even though it had been hidden under layers of Magic and back water fragrances, there was a spark of familiarity. “They even smell the same,” like just after a strike of lightening and twinkling laughter in autumn leaves.

Deaton massaged his chin, “Is it possible the other Werewolf is related to you?”

“We have some distant cousins in South America,” But that didn’t sound right. Last she heard there were four of them left all pushing into elderly, except the youngest female.

He nodded, “I’ll take a closer look into Rituals requiring familial relations.” That still didn’t sound right; there was an edge on her instinct that she couldn’t put her finger on.

A link jolted and Talia sucked in air. Matt had tensed to panic attack levels. “Keep me updated,” she called, heading down the stairs and out into the open air.

She couldn’t track Matt down; links with Human pack mates were different, less solid. She lifted her nose in the air and tried to locate his scent but he was too far away. It was only so far along in the day though so Matt had to have just dropped the kids off at daycare.

Talia kept to the shadowed passageways, speeding at clear coasts and dropping to an agitated jog when in company. The daycare sat in the center of town, right beside the market place and it didn’t take long to figure out where Matt’s panic originated.

There weren’t many people out due to the harsh snow just last night but those that were out were privy to the sight of five collapsed in stalls and what might have been a deformed pole.

It wouldn’t have been very strange if the whispers catching her ear didn’t shoot off some red sparks. The most common thought process seemed to be animal experimentation gone wrong, but none of them could accurately recall what had gone on.

Talia caught the sickly scent of Magic, followed closely by a Were of some kind, not a Werewolf, it was more feline and covered in days old perfume. She spotted Matt racing off towards the daycare without a second glance at the scene. He’d always been a little too quick for a Human, but no one seemed any the wiser.

Behind the daycare’s sky blue door Matt was arguing with Marcy, the suspicious caretaker who needed at least three character references just to hand their kids back over to them. “You didn’t drop them off yet Matthew,” she said.

Talia sniffed, catching the twin’s scents entering and almost immediately exiting the area. “Yes he did,” she piped up, taking her place at her Brother’s side. His relief was instant, his tense shoulders bowing as he tried to regain some air.

“No,” Marcy repeated. “He didn’t,” she picked up a wailing toddler, directing an older one to the coloring table. “I always speak with the parents dropping off children; this is the first I’m seeing of him today.”

Matt’s frustration was apparent, “No, it isn’t. You told me about the bake sale next week. Cherry pecan,” his voice pitched, “I’m bringing a cherry pecan pie!”

Marcy handed them a flier from off the wall, “We’re having a bake sale next week to raise money for new supplies.” It touched Matt’s hand but it didn’t register. Talia took it, receiving a confused gaze, “I thought the kids were coming today.”

Right there, on the edge of her senses: Magic. “We’ll see you soon,” Talia nodded at Marcy who wandered further into the nursery and began her day of herding children.

Matt’s glasses and mouth had drooped, his trembling shock bustling under his skin. Talia threw her arm around his shoulders and guided him out, “My kids,” he whispered.

Talia would kill that damn Mage.

She kicked the door open and received a sharp whiff of a scent she knew far too well. Talia kept her voice low, “The other Werewolf was here.” The air entering Matt’s lungs stuttered, recalling the fate of a Pack’s cubs in the claws of another Pack.

Talia squeezed his bicep, “We’ll find them Mattie.”

The scent of Magic was overpoweringly strong but it drifted one way, carried on further down the suburban streets. Talia nudged Matt towards it, “You’ve scented him?” he asked with sharp hope.

“I think,” she growled. Talia was hopeful but she wouldn’t put it past a Magic User to play tricks. Matt stuttered out a deep breath, his fists clenched and his jaw tight.

Little snow remained upon the roads, having melted off by the return of the sun, and children kicked it up in back yards without a supervising gaze. Talia followed the scent further inside, taking a left to reach an unclosed road with a shut hardware store.

Her Nephew giggled.

Matt sucked in a deep breath creeping around the store’s side to find his kids. Talia secured at his shoulder, absolutely ready to be his claws. “You goddess-damn unhand my children!” Matt clenched his fists and stomped towards the duo.

The Werewolf of the duo stilled with his shoulders castling his ears, until Oliver peeked out from behind and cooed at his Dad. The Mage’s gaze flickered between the Werewolf’s unseen face and them, “Careful Man we’re all friends here.” Thomas squealed in the Mage’s arm.

Her fangs preened from her lips with a careful growl, enough to signify danger but keep her Nephews unawares.

In a moment the Werewolf had vanished, Oliver suddenly juggled in the Mage’s grip. He chuckled awkwardly, “Stage fright. A shame really with…everything,” he exhaled in self-disappointment. Until a grin had taken its place, a twin in each arm he crooned. “I’ll accept praises right about now.”

Matt’s growl was child’s play but the Mage appeared sheepish, which was more than hers had received the night earlier. “If you harmed them,” Matt threatened, already sending Talia a signal to be prepared.

She was incredibly prepared.

“What?” the Mage shook his head and shoulders,” No. Who do you take me for? You’d think I’d harm kids,” he faked throwing up and Thomas clapped his hands with another happy squeal. The Mage grinned, jostling him, “You like that? You Werewolves and your penchant for violence; I knew it was au natural.”

Her Nephews didn’t smell harmed in away way, in fact they smelled pleased, and entertained in Thomas’ case. Talia patted her Brother’s shoulder and inhaled, showing that everything was alright.

“Give me my Sons,” Matt tried to remain calm but his body vibrated with the need to certify the damage-less state himself.

“No problem, you want to come take this ankle biter from my hands?” the Mage jostled Thomas with a grin. Matt scowled, snatching his babbling son towards his chest, checking him over like that ape in the Lion King while Thomas made grabby hands. Talia had watched that movie one to many times and it still frequented in her dreams.

The Mage held Oliver closer for a second, allowing him to bury his small nose into the Mage’s throat. Talia didn’t quiet the rumbling growl in her chest. “You’ve got one grade A snuggler here, I can just feel the tension melting off,” his knees bounced a bit as he swayed, patting Oliver’s back comfortingly.

Matt scowled, “The tension that comes from kidnapping?” He tucked Thomas upon a forearm and stole Oliver into his chest, pressing a snuffling kiss into his dark hair. Oliver twitched his nose, blinking golden eyes and yawned, exposing his little fangs.

The Mage appeared gravely offended, hand braced over his heart but there was something sincere in his expression. “Kidnapping,” he shook his head as if to dislodge the thought. “Unbelievable that you think we kidnap kids, I literally just handed them back.”

His sweater popped from over his thumbs, dislodging with his extremely expressive and semi-dangerous arm waving, and Thomas frowned, crossing his little arms. “Want Derek,” he demanded. In fact he practically glared at the Mage for his more than request.

His racing heartbeat never stumbled or faltered but his scent shifted, partially threatened and sheepish, carried by an even higher pitch. “Totally understandable, yep, we all want Derek to rouse out of his nap but, eh, c’est la vie.”  

Thomas glared at the Mage like the building blocks Cora had painstakingly piled into a fort before he charged them to rubble.

Talia genuinely saw great things in the twin’s future. Matt having calmed down once he’d secured that they’d have one.

She gave them a cursory sniff, catching the Mage’s and the Pseudo Derek’s scent. “Stiles,” she said.

The Mage’s head startled up until his cheeks brightened to red and he twisted his lips with a great frown. “Who that?” he asked. “Well, what that, is that a what, should I be saying what?”

Talia’s hunch was severely illuminated yet still didn’t make any form of sense. None of the duo’s conduct made any sense, “Why are you doing this?” It literally boggled her mind.

Her Son was in a coma alongside another strikingly familiar child, and yet, here he stood, handing back her Nephews whom he’d just kidnapped. It had something to do with the thrashed Market Place and the Omega on their tree line, she could sense it.

The Mage’s lips tilted down in sympathetic sincerity but got caught by an impulsive jerkiness. He waved twiddling fingers, “I’ve told you, Alpha Hale. We’re the good guys,” he said that like it meant something.

He’d willing stared an Alpha in the eyes and didn’t back down, Talia stepped forward shielding the twins and Matt from the Mage. “Prove it,” she dared.

The Mage wasn’t impressed but he appeared uncomfortable with articulating that. “I think I just have,” he gestured to the twins huddled into her Brother’s chest. He exhaled and picked the sweater over his thumbs again, “I’ll go.”

He didn’t dare bare his back which meant there was a brain in that pale head, his palms rose as he withdrew. Matt released a soft grunt, adding his vote to how little information they’d received. “Don’t come back,” Talia warned.

This was her Pack, her Territory and her Son.

Now, he really did appear apologetic and Talia just didn’t understand. “It really isn’t up to us,” he told her meaningfully. She got the impression the Mage had looped them together and that really didn’t sit well. He checked his back and raced down the streets, disappearing between one step and the next.

Talia pressed her fingers to her forehead, snuffling into her Nephews’ matching locks. Thomas was making good work of stealing Matt’s button and Oliver tugged on his collar. They smelt of Pack, warm and still encompassed by that baby scent.

They also smelt of Derek and it wasn’t assisting the mess that had become of her facts. She needed to get them in order, “Thank Newton. You believe that?” Matt scoffed.

Matt deposited Oliver in her arms as they hit the streets, the Market Place currently littered with officials. Talia pressed a kiss to her Nephew’s forehead, “I do, actually.” It wasn’t something she liked but it was the truth, Talia didn’t think the Duo were out for their blood.

“He kidnapped my children,” Matt hissed. He dodged around a rapidly blinking older lady and Talia hoped she’d forget what she heard. Matt threw his abandoned car door open, bending over to park Thomas in his car seat.

Talia snapped her teeth at him, “I was there Matt.”

“Then what?” he was verging a break down. Adrenaline reeking from his pores, and Talia knew it would take pointed words to calm him down.

And she would have to calm down. Talia inhaled, “He doesn’t smell evil.” Her claws unsheathed and sheathed until she tucked them away, Oliver squishing his nose into her collar. She continued before Matt’s twisted lips could spit out his rebuttal, “All my instincts tell me that he isn’t the enemy.”

“But,” Matt began but halted. He contemplated her words. Probably noticed how many opportunities the Mage had to dispose of her Pack. There wasn’t much any of them could do against a Mage who’d hidden the other Werewolf’s scent.

Talia parked Oliver in his car seat, clicking it shut without a second attempt and threw her head back to exhale in the passenger’s seat.

“I’m sorry,” Matt grunted. That ruffled part of her heart smoothened as she watched him struggle against Thomas’ boots, finally strapping him down with a triumphant click. He climbed into the Driver’s seat and shoved the key inside, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

The car rumbled to life, light music drifting at the lowest volume through the speakers. “It’s okay,” Talia had a lot of sway as Alpha and she didn’t approve of allowing it to weigh upon her Pack. She cocked a smile, “Just Human of you.”

Matt’s eyeballs rolled to check the back of his skull with a load groan, “I thought we were over that.” Over the years, as the only acknowledged Human in a long line of Werewolves Matt had heard all forms of those words but Talia always tried to use them to soothe him when he felt imperfect.   

Thomas babbled in obvious agreement to Matt’s woes.

Talia laughed and chimed, “Never.”

Matt glided over the salted streets, the Twin’s babbled to themselves and the world while the tension unrolled in Matt’s shoulders. “My turn, right?” he checked.

Talia nibbled her bottom lip and forcefully halted, “Yes.” Derek’s link still faded in her grasp. It welled in that breach of constant bad waves, “You called in sick, right?”

Matt bit his lip, “I’ll do it when we get home.” Talia flicked his ear as they pulled up and unloaded Oliver into her chest, he shivered and snuggled in closer. Oliver did have an inept ability to relieve tension, damn that Mage.

Thomas fought with Matt on principal while they entered the foyer, plopping Oliver down inside the play room where he immediately latched on to his favorite dinosaur and began chewing down on it. Thomas crawling beside him to chuck building blocks a moment later.

Matt held the land line with a plugged nose and called in sick. Talia would never understand why the Professor believed him, Matt was a particularly awful liar.

Oliver and Thomas squirmed over each other, a mess of human skin and fur. She spotted Mr. Bubbles on the carpet and carefully set it aside so it wouldn’t get ripped in the tumble of toddlers. Cora was at Pre-School, Rebecca at Middle School, Laura at High School, and Peter at College, and the house always felt quiet without all the kids inside.

Talia wandered into the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for chicken which literally included her stuffing three whole chickens in the oven with little spices and vegetables.

Eric found her on way to refill his coffee, Matt having taken his vigil at Derek’s side. “There you are,” he curled an arm over her waist and kissed her cheek. Talia felt that incessant tension beginning to relax. “Matt told me what happened,” he exhaled tiredly. He took a sip of his coffee and leaned against the counter, “So his name’s Stiles?”

Talia leaned on the kitchen table, “He reacted to it.”

It wasn’t really answer but Eric didn’t need more, “You’re thinking the Werewolf will react to Derek?”

“I don’t know what it means if he does,” Talia massaged the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand what a Mage can gain from stealing an older version of some random kid’s body,” her claws scratched against her scalp but it didn’t relieve the tension.

Eric took another sip of his coffee and waved a palm, “Let’s talk to Teresa.” He led the way towards the couch beside Ma’s soft rocking chair. Her Ma eyeing them, her jaw low and the tower of white curls wrapped over her head bobbed.

Talia clasped her knuckles, Ma wasn’t forthcoming to any extent and picking at information was like plucking fangs. Eric swallowed his bitter coffee and sat at her side. “You know what we want to ask, Ma,” Talia said.

Ma set her knitting over her lap with pursed lips, “Anything I have to tell you dear, you are more than capable of finding with your resources.”

Talia attempted not to sigh, “You’re one of our resources Ma.” Eric leaned closer bestowing Ma a look of agreement.  As Alpha, Talia could demand answers but she never approved or liked that option. It didn’t make the instinct any easier to swallow down.

Ma’s dark eyes twinkled until she closed them with a firm nod and leaned back to rock her chair. “Alright dear,” Eric relaxed into his mug further. “How about we begin with Energy Transfer Rituals,” Ma offered.

Talia didn’t approve how Ma had sat on this information. Ma noticed and raised a bushy eyebrow in response. “That’d be perfect,” Eric interrupted lightly, his palm rubbing her thigh.

Ma smiled at Eric, depositing her green wool in Talia’s lap while she set about knitting once more. Talia unraveled it at her Ma’s lowered chin, her sticks clacking as she started up again. “I’m afraid I’m only aware of a Ritual involving tree saps,” Ma proclaimed.

Ma was doing that patient acceptance, weathered fingers clicking away to create a new sweater. “That’s not it,” Talia replied and Ma didn’t eye her for her tone. “Just,” Talia had to begin somewhere. “What can you tell us about Mages?”

Ma appeared pensive and Eric clutched Talia’s palm, setting his coffee down. “The Mage said he’s here to help,” Eric added. That disbelief colored in Talia’s thoughts making its way into his words.

“That’s simple enough,” Ma smiled. The Twins had begun a game of constant babble again, banging toys on the wall. The plastic truck wouldn’t last much longer under Thomas’ enthusiasm. “This Mage,” Ma savored her time, “What was the scent of his Magic?”

“Sweet,” Talia responded immediately. The scent was stubborn, clogging her nostrils for hours after the initial burst. “Too sweet, like overly ripe berries but today,” she sniffed as if to recall, “It was muted.”

Ma brightened, the rapid flicker of her fingers relaxing while she mulled over the information. Eric stilled the raising growl in Talia’s throat with a massage over her waist. “Magic can’t disguise itself, once revealed, it is what it is.”

Eric leaned elbows on his knees, “You mean that Magic is sentient?” He scratched at the stubble at his jaw, his brows furrowed and Talia couldn’t halt the softening of her lips, even at the less than perfect news.

“As is my understanding,” Ma revealed. “The scent of ripe berries is good, the muted scent even better.” Talia clutched Eric’s hand, “I once knew a Mage, a very enthusiastic man.” Her smile dipped, “Magic had picked him for his curiosity, I suppose, but he was much too passive for Magic and paid the price.”

This wasn’t good news.

“Magic cannot help itself, it must constantly replenish, “Ma’s fingers trickled through the air.  “The riper the fruit, the stronger the Magic and the angrier it becomes that it is not being harnessed. It is harder to govern and will do anything to escape.”

Eric’s brows burrowed, “That means the Mage is in control.” Ma nodded and bestowed Eric a beautiful smile. “He’s not harnessing the Energy from this Ritual, it could kill him.” Eric caught Talia’s gaze, “What do you think he’s taking it for?”

The Energy wasn’t heading for the Mage, or the Werewolf. It had to be for a third entity, “Maybe for how they got here?” But it didn’t make sense. A feral Omega and Were-Feline, her Pack could handle. Why would they complete a Ritual to get here? It had to have been hard, dangerous.

 “Maybe it’s for his Pack?” Eric stiffened with the realization, attempting to shift together the pieces for an incomplete puzzle.

Talia scratched at her temple. She didn’t take lightly to the threat of an incoming Pack, with a Mage on hand, and the ability to enter her territory without her knowledge. “But why smell the same? It’s unnerving,” it’d make it harder to kill them.

Eric’s fingers dug into her palm, his thumb rubbing at her knuckle. “We don’t have enough information right now. Maybe Deaton found something,” Eric shrugged. Yeah, Talia didn’t have a lot of faith for that too. 

Talia had taken to growling at Deaton over the phone when the kids returned home. Laura smacking a sloppy kiss on her cheek dumped her bag by the door and claimed her watch over Derek. Just this once, Talia would put the bag in its place.

Peter set Cora down from Pre-School waddling into the playroom where the Twin’s gurgled their greeting, before Peter unloaded the chicken from the oven.

Rebecca flung her bag on her designated couch and yelped when Matt yanked her into an aggressive hug. “Dad,” she whined, until she realized there was no escape and rubbed his spine.

Deaton didn’t have any answers and Talia hung up. Her hair only remained in her scalp out of sheer will power. Talia busied herself with pointless Town Council politics, crafting excuses and discussing fundraisers with the committee members.

It was dark in a blink of an eye, the kids having ravaged two chickens and started picking at the third. Eric went down for a much needed nap, soon followed by Matt. Everyone was in a somber disposition and wouldn’t shake it off until Derek returned.

Talia was halfheartedly chomping on a chicken breast when her heart howled, “Intruder!”

The Pack awoke in a flurry of motion. Laura threw herself atop Eric to make him take watch over Derek, yanking him out of bed while he yawned. Peter bucked to life beside Ma, his homework dropping to his feet while he rolled his shoulders.

“Ma, keep an eye on everyone,” Talia yelled. Matt stood under the play room’s arch and nudged Oliver back inside. Her Ma was ferocious when battling despite her age, Talia had no doubt she’d keep the Pack safe.

“Is it that Pack?” Matt asked when Laura thundered down the stairs.

Talia shook her head as Peter and Laura prowled the front of the house, “A Hive.” Once they’d entered her territory Talia sensed the minus temperature of their bodies and she’d known.

She locked the door at her back in an extremely figurative boundary and snarled into her shift. Her heart roared to protect Pack. Talia took point, flexing her claws as Peter grinned with the upcoming battle.

“What we beating tonight?” Laura crooned and licked her fangs.

Talia counted the galloping auras with a growl, “Vampires.” It would be relaxing to finally mash someone to a bloodied pulp. She gave the house a wide girth, focusing on the quiet shadows beyond the tree line.

Vampires never shifted far from their caves unless a meal was promised. Wind picked up and they all caught the growing scent of decayed blood bags charging at them.

Laura snarled, bouncing on her heels while she chucked off her socks to curl them into the remains of snowed grass. Talia didn’t care why the Vampires were there, only that they would die before they got their fangs in her Pack.

Talia’s vision narrowed with the first gleam of white and soon their growls were echoed with rasping snarls.

“Go for the heart,” Talia muttered.

Deathly white figures were thrown out the tree line, their limbs long and unpredictable, and their attack patterns sharp and wild. Talia hated Vampires, especially those who considered Werewolf blood a delicacy. It would be a pleasure to rip the hairless creatures apart.

Laura snarled, rolling as she was tackled by a tall male and found her claws purchase in his ribcage. Talia dodged a swipe at her head and punched her claws into its heart.

Peter had disappeared in the fray, a congregation of vampires taking his place and Talia lunged at another duo heading for her Brother. She chewed out one’s throat, forcefully removing hearts in a race to beat the onslaught.

Laura slammed into a huddle smashing through the living room window, spinning and clawing in a ferocious arc. Peter whined loud and his link trembled, Talia busted through the huddle and buried her claws in the screaming blood eaters.

Talia spit out a final throat, her bloodied brother catching her eye before he charged the rasping laughter of the vampires enjoying their play. Laura’s snarl pitched with pain, her thigh yanked from its position in its socket as another bit into her chest.

“Laura!” Talia elbowed the Vampire who dared take a bite of her shoulder, only to be knocked into the snow. Her head slamming into Earth as one of them grabbed her arm and bit into it. Talia snarled and pierced the heart on top of her with her knee, grabbing a hold of the high pitched gurgle on her arm and crawling on top of him to rip the life from his lungs.

Laura hissed, “I’m good!” She snapped her thigh back to its place and took off racing from the circle of corpses. That’s her girl, Talia grinned until it fell on a congregation of Vampires.

Peter snarled as they tried to take him captive, beheading one with his claws and twisting away to stand in front of her. Laura also tossed aside when the Vampires in front widened dry mouths.

Talia knew what that meant. “Their Queen’s in there,” she growled out. Vampires had a poison which rendered even Werewolves lethargic and was extremely paralyzing to humans. It tumbled over the edges of her vision and she wanted it gone.

“Give us the cubs,” the Vampires all sounded at once. They had been named a Hive for a reason; the Queen was privy to all their thoughts and bodies. When she cackled they all did, “And we might spare you.”

More and more vampires grinned from their crevices behind trees, some attempting to circle round them to the front of the house. Laura snarled at them. There were more than Talia expected, despite their strength, Talia and two Betas couldn’t hold them all back.

The Queen didn’t need to know that, “I’ll rip out your heart myself.”

Vampires cackled in off pitches, emaciated chest heaving when another howl hit the sky. All the vampires stopped, tilting their head sideways to hear the thundering of claws racing towards them. They pouted, “We weren’t told you had company.”

Talia didn’t like the sound of that. Laura whined. “It’s the other Pack,” Talia growled. Her Pack couldn’t handle another confrontation, as it was; they were barely making it through this one. One crisis at a time wasn’t too hard a pact to matter.

It wouldn’t matter. The Trio of the Mage’s Pack broke into the clearing. There were two females of differing descendants and a dark skinned Werewolf, their eyes gleaming different shades as a roar snapped through the tallest female.

“Oh, not friends of yours?” the Queen cackled still hidden in her Hive.

The shorter female smiled but it wasn’t pleasant, an odd shimmer coating her form alongside a flickering tail. “Definitely not of yours,” she definitely wasn’t a Werewolf.

The tallest female barked out a laugh with a prowling charge, the dark skinned one rolling his eyes on her heels while the shorter female unsnapped a Katana from her spine and drove it inside a Vampire.

Laura howled in triumph, the giddy victory already thrumming over her link and she lunged into the fray. The Hive screamed, yanked apart by the different forces tearing it apart.

She’d deal with the Pack once the Queen was dead. Talia snapped her fangs inside a fleeing vampire, clawing and tossing bodies to create an opening to get to the Queen. Peter cackled and threw his claws into the mixture.

Talia crunched a nose under her elbow and snarled as fangs bit into her thigh, both troublemakers disappearing in the sea of white. The Queen was simple to spot, crouching low over a bed of her puppets and the only one with long blond hair.

The Queen’s blood red orbs found Talia and she screamed, “Protect me!” The Vampires screamed back, unable to maneuver away from the yowls of fury. Talia winced at the volume, lunging and sinking her claws inside the Queen’s sides and kept her head away from the oversized snapping maws.

The Queen sunk them inside her bicep, the poison burned inward and Talia head-butted the Queen’s nose until it crunched. Her claws dug inside the spitting Queen’s chest until the furious thumping snapped off with a twist of her wrist.

The Vampires collapsed, their Queen displaced.

Laura actually let out a whine of disappointment. Talia huffed, one problem down, a battle out of her blood and it had felt liberating. She flicked the blood off her palms before it had time to settle, she didn’t want the house reeking of Vampire’s blood.

Peter grunted, clawing his way out from under a huddle of Vampires and glared at her chuckle. “Reminded me of a movie,” she said, helping him up. He smelled rank, Vampire’s blood was a mixture of all earlier meals and it got stuck to everything.

He sniffed the collar of his leather jacket, “I’m going to have to throw this now.”

The tallest female popped her shoulders over her head with a satisfied smile and blood splattered over her jean shorts. It didn’t take much to understand that she’d enjoyed the battle. The smallest wiped off her blade in the snow and re-sheathed it, smoothing down her skirt and…

Laura stole a large whiff of the tall, dark skinned werewolf who blinked down at her in unbothered confusion. “You smell kind of familiar?” Laura tilted her head with a grin, and his lips twitched in return.

Her Daughter was preening in the post-battle glow, “Laura.” Talia felt like she should have expected this but it definitely wasn’t the time for that grin. Her Daughter skipped to her side and thumped Peter in the arm for his eye roll.

They’d survived which coiled something akin to victory and pride in her gut but the Trio of the Mage’s Pack, they were wild cards. Despite their assistance, Talia didn’t want them near her Pack when they were already injured.

The tallest female had tanned skin and a messy head of hair, her sharp blue eyes that tipped more in favor of feral. “That’s just weird,” her lips tugged over her fangs. Her stare tilted at Peter and Laura.

The smaller one elbowed her with a short, nervous smile in Talia’s direction. At least one of them understood the hierarchy. “Sorry, uh, we should be going,” she nudged the Wild Child back the way they’d come.

They were just kids, about the age of the Mage, and didn’t seem to have his penchant for vague statements. Talia could almost sense their carelessness, “Yes you should,” she provoked. If another fight broke out, Talia could always relieve further tension. Three Betas couldn’t beat an Alpha and two familial Betas.

Wild Child growled low in her throat and crossed her arms, chin tilted in challenge. “You would be dead if it wasn’t for us,” she told them. Talia held back her snort because it might have been correct, not that she would admit it outside the Pack. Laura growled warningly, and the dark skinned Beta let off a long suffering sigh.

The smaller one was Asian; Korean perhaps, she elbowed Wild Child hard in the gut to receive a whine and a betrayed glare. “She didn’t mean it like that, uh, we don’t want to cause any trouble,” she said.

“It kind of felt like she wanted to go,” Laura grinned over her fangs. Talia shot a disappointed look – speaking out of turn again - and a whine vibrated in Laura’s throat, “Okay,” she caved.

The Korean ducked under Wild Child’s arm, slinking her arms round her thick waist while Wild Child’s growl died down. It was adorable and Talia decided to ease up on them. “We’re really sorry,” the Korean bowed her head. She stepped backwards and tugged Wild Child with her.

Wild Child’s blue eyes flashed until she turned her back, a clear dismissal – Laura clacked her fangs – and vanished inside the underbrush. The Korean sent them another nervous yet sincere grin and disappeared after Wild Child.  

Wild Child didn’t seem to be a Werewolf either. Talia needed to regroup with Deaton and her Pack needed to rest. They’d find the truth even without any clues from the Mage’s Pack.

Only the Beta remained, he assessed and evaluated them. Peter had taken to picking the blood from his claws but the Beta bowed his head, keeping his gaze away from hers and trailed after his Pack, disappearing as well.

Talia didn’t approve that more of the Mage’s Pack kept showing up. She sensed them until they retreated to where they’d arrived, their presences vanishing there. That, as most things including the damned Mage didn’t make any sense.

Her Beta’s trailed after her as she entered the familiar scents of Pack and home rolling her shoulders, Matt poked his head out from the Play Room and released a large breath. “You’re bleeding all over the foyer,” he winced at it.

Laura and Peter disappeared upstairs, heading to separate bathrooms to wash off the stench. It would take a while until they were squeaky fresh, so Talia had time. “Can you get Eric? I need to call Deaton,” she pressed his number into the phone, gritting her teeth at the slippery blood over her fingers.

Matt nodded enthusiastically taking the stairs a duo at a time, until she heard him inside Derek’s room. “Alpha Hale,” Deaton sounded warily surprised, “I suppose you’ve heard?”

It was almost more aggravating because she knew that he’d heard other information. “I doubt it,” she growled. Eric shuffled down the stairs, observing her for any damage before he scratched the hair tickling his forehead.

Deaton hesitated, “Why don’t you tell me what you found?”

Talia massaged her aching forehead with her bloodied fingers, “We were attacked. By a Hive,” she growled. Talia hated Vampires. “And three of the Mage’s Pack arrived; they helped us keep them at bay while I finished the Queen.”

He hummed, “I suspect everyone is fine or I would have heard about it.”

Eric headed towards the living room where Ma sat and knitted, facing the gaping hole in the window. He barely glanced at it twice before setting out to cover it with boards from the basement. Talia smiled as he passed her, “We are. Tell me about what you found.”

“Two children found comatose about half an hour ago,” Deaton exhaled and set files down a steel counter. Derek’s breathing was still even, she could hear it even over the Twin’s playing knights. “I haven’t checked but I suspect they have the same symptoms.”

“There were three of them,” Talia said.

Deaton exhaled, “I’ll look into another.” He made a thoughtful sound in his throat, “When exactly would you say the Mage’s other Pack Mates arrived?”

Eric hammered the boards over the window and she winced. “About half an hour ago,” Talia realized. It was almost like the Mage’s Pack Mates were replacing the children.

“I think I found something about that a while ago, hang on,” Deaton set the phone down. Laura opened the bathroom door and flooded the house with the flowery scents of conditioner, softly padding into Derek’s room while humming.

Matt startled when he found Laura there, a quiet conversation sparked between the two. Cora let out an almighty roar inside the Play Room and when Talia poked her head in she found her stomping over a pillow fort.

Talia chuckled at her youngest, “Found it,” Deaton grunted when a thick tome slammed on his steel counter. He flipped pages, “It was somewhere in here.”

“It’s not just compatibility,” It couldn’t be. They’d figured out it was more than that.

Deaton stopped flipping pages, “Oh,” he breathed. Talia unclenched her jaw and waited for him to finish scouring the page. “I think, I think I should come over-“

“Deaton,” Talia warned. Eric clapped the splinters from his hands and handed her a cloth for the worst of the blood coating her wrists. Talia scrubbed at it violently, bowing the phone on her shoulder.

Deaton exhaled, “You’re right that it’s not just compatibility. The Mage’s Pack is essentially replacing the children here which are a side effect that only occurs in very few Rituals.”

“You’re saying Derek’s unconscious because of a side effect?” Talia might reconsider hunting the Mage down. Eric’s dark eyes narrowed, and she passed him the receiver so they could both hear.

He exhaled again, which was proof enough that he much rather not be the one admitting this. “The only Rituals that have this side effect are the Rituals where another version of that same person is involved.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eric interrupted. Talia found his hand and squeezed it.

Deaton didn’t startle but he took a while to reconsider his words. “It means that the children and Derek are unconscious because another version of themselves is occupying their space. I’d like to add that these Rituals were purely theoretical.”

“Not anymore,” Eric laughed but the shock pulsated off of him in waves.

Talia stole a breath to control her claws, slinking them back inside before Eric was harmed. “That Werewolf, the one with the Mage, that’s Derek?” His scent older held more grief than Derek’s had but she’d recognized it all the same. It’d been Pack.

Talia sucked back an urge to tear up, “It’s extremely likely, yes,” Deaton answered.

Cora squeezed Mr. Bubbles in the Play Room’s doorway, “When will he wake up?” Talia croaked. The line of the other Werewolf’s shoulders is the line of Eric’s, she should have noticed that.

“He fell asleep to preserve a certain balance. When the other version has left Derek will wake up again,” he sounded apologetic. Eric shook his head and scooped Cora into his arm, burying his nose in her messy hair.

Talia hung up, she needed time to consider this and pressed a hand to her mouth to curb the urge to bare her fangs. Eric wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “I know, I know,” he whispered into her temple.

Even if the Werewolf in the Mage’s Pack wasn’t her Derek, the grief they’d witnessed and the amount of times he’d fled from them painted an extremely grim picture.

A version of their Son had been alone. And it made it very difficult to breathe.

“Mummy,” Laura called from the staircase, her concern mingling with Peter’s confusion over her shoulder. Talia kept her head buried in Eric’s chest, starving off that anxiety attack which would only let go after she dug her claws into someone.

Whatever had happened to her Son wouldn’t happen to her Pack, it just wouldn’t happen.

Eric’s chest rumbled with his words, “Can you get everyone into Derek’s room?” his palm splayed over her spine, his breath breezing over her shoulder.

Laura and Peter grabbed a twin from the Play Room and hesitated at her back until Peter nudged Laura up the stairs to round up the rest of the Pack. Talia sucked in a deep breath, it would be fine. Her Pack would sort this.

Cora pressed her tiny sweaty palm to Talia’s chin and she kissed the little fingers, curling her youngest into her chest. Who was to say that the Derek roaming Beacon Hills had led the life her Son had? Matt was still a lover of all sci-fi and she’d could notice enough not to take some scent at face value.

Eric gripped her hand, her fingers casting over his tendons as they ascended the staircase into Derek’s room. Her Husband had changed the overhanging light bulb Derek had complained about before the ordeal with Paige.

“Whoa,” Matt clicked his tongue at the sight of them. Thomas gnawed on a teething toy balanced on his chest while Matt flailed up so Eric could take his seat.

Talia sniffled into Cora’s hair, pattering her fingers over her Daughter’s skin until everyone had settled. “Well, what’s this about?” Matt asked, swallowing loudly enough for Talia to hear the gulp in her skull.

Eric steadied his breaths but Talia would talk. She was the Alpha, “We think we’ve found out what’s happened to Derek.”

Laura’s fingers paused in Derek’s hair, worrying the left of her bottom lip and halted the whine in her throat. Peter’s brows lifted from his seat at her side, but his gaze flickered towards Derek in attempt to sense it before Talia revealed it.

“The Emissary found out that Derek’s comatose due to - as a side effect of a Ritual,” Talia sighed. “The Ritual’s purpose wasn’t to put him to sleep, and apparently this helped him narrow down the potential Rituals because it’s a very unique side effect.”

Peter curled his lips back, “That doesn’t sound good,” he muttered. Laura elbowed him.

Matt practically vibrated and Rebecca had taken to clenching her fists over her biceps. That intense stare pinned on Talia for information, “Well?” he said.

Talia hated Magic. Not just battling or dealing with Magic, it just always sounded impossible and it left a bad taste in her mouth. “Apparently this,” Eric continued noticing her distaste. “Only happens when the Ritual brings another version of that person to their place.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Laura had to keep her temper under wraps.

Peter scoffed, “I’ve never heard of anything like that.” Pleased in his dismissal he butted Laura’s shoulder to calm that pulsating indignation.         

“I have to agree with the little Bro,” Matt added. Peter let off an exasperated sigh but he’d attempted for years to dismiss the term and had never succeeded. “I’m almost positively certain I would have heard about these alleged types of Rituals.” Matt snorted, “Other version…Our life isn’t Star Trek.”

Talia growled and quieted the ricochet of arguments. “I trust the Emissary’s judgment-“

“But it doesn’t make any sense!” Matt interrupted, “Are you positive Deaton isn’t getting a little too liberal with the herbs-?”

“Matt,” Talia snapped.

He clamped his mouth shut.

Laura hissed in sympathy and Peter winced, the quiet babble of toddlers finally halting underneath her ferocious undertone. Talia massaged the bridge of her nose, it had been an instinctual reaction but it didn’t mean Talia enjoyed having so much control over her Pack.

Eric was the first to release a deep pent up breath, instantly calming down the racing of heartbeats. Laura crossed her arms and glared at Derek, “Fine. It’s Derek, but Derek wouldn’t do that. It has to be some sort of evil Derek.” Laura pulled a face and shoved her elbow in Peter’s side when he snorted.

Talia quieted her smile. Derek’s brand of Evil would include refusing to take out the trash when the stench bothered the Twins. “We don’t think their evil,” Eric said.

Talia reflected his grim acknowledgment. It didn’t take further for Laura to piece it together, “But this other…Derek or whatever, has another Pack. A Pack that’s not us,” her fingers clenched her biceps over her knees. “It can’t be our Derek.”

Talia’s really hoped her Daughter was right.

Laura frowned at Derek’s too peaceful face, but there was a multitude of hurt wafting towards Talia’s nose. “He wouldn’t do that,” she insisted.

Her Husband leaned forward, seconds away from wrapping their eldest in a large hug. “We know that this other Derek,” his blink stuttered, “isn’t using the Energy that’s being taken from Derek. It leads to the only possibility being that this is a side effect.”

Peter scoffed, “So we’re certain there’s another Derek frolicking around Beacon Hills?” he waved a hand as if he couldn’t understand how they were being so stupid.

“Peter,” Talia warned. She shouldn’t have dropped the phone but Talia had an inkling Deaton would arrive with that missing information that’d assure the skeptic and disrespectful members of her Pack. “None of us have seen his face,” Talia said, “But we have his scent and it’s not from the Energy Transfer.”

“No,” Laura denied, “That’s not Derek.”

“That’s why you’re sad,” Rebecca announced from Eric’s left. Talia recognized the tilt of Rebecca’s head, and it promised the truth and tactlessness of her next words. “Because Derek got this new Pack, you think he left us. But, like, Derek wouldn’t leave us,” Rebecca finished as if they were stupid to even consider it. Oliver cooed his approval from her chest.

Talia actually smiled at her Pack. That was until Peter revealed the logic they’d found earlier. He shook his head, tufting with a curled lip, “He reeked of grief.”

Her Pack’s collective ‘oh’ didn’t bring forth as much pride as usual.

Laura gripped Peter’s fingers and he actually allowed it, shrugging out a huff and dragging Laura closer to his chest for her to huddle in. Of course, if anyone mentioned this behavior later to either of them it wouldn’t go down peacefully.

“Mummy, what’s bad?” Cora winched, tiny nose scrunched up at the stench.

Talia focused on the first time her Kids had shifted together in the wild of the forest, their laughter and the rapid tumble of fur and claws into flesh and nails. Derek had stopped Cora from toppling head first into a hedgehog and began a science lesson right there in their underwear.

Words halted on Matt’s lips, Tommy bouncing on his hip rather ferociously. Ma cleared her throat loudly and the rumbling of a car down their road became apparent. Talia breathed a sigh of relief, “I’ll let Deaton in.” She tried to smile at her Husband before heading down the stairs.

Ma’s gaze remained at center, her sticks unmoving and an extremely pensive look on her face. “You alright, Ma?” she asked.

Ma found her and nodded with a short smile, “You’ve got this, my dear,” and she returned to knitting. Ma heard everything with or without trying; her senses had only seemed to heighten with the years.

Talia smiled, bouncing her daughter and opening the door for the nearing midnight draft, and Deaton who locked his car and headed up the front steps. “I hope it’s alright,” he entered without an ounce of reluctance.

“We were expecting you,” Talia allowed. He shut the door behind him and removed his scarf and opened his coat, Cora garbled at his face over her thumb. Talia huffed and had him follow her up the stairs to Derek’s room, a large tome in his hands weighing him down.

The Pack’s conversation mulled out as Deaton arrived in the doorway. Talia sat atop Eric’s arm chair, “I suppose you’ll want more information before I get to the good news.”

Matt sucked his bottom lip, roaming an appraising eye over Deaton for any of those herbs he’d mentioned earlier. “Please,” he outstretched a hand for the tome and set Thomas in Peter’s lap.

“It’s bookmarked,” Deaton handed it over and Matt opened it on Derek’s carpet with the practice of years. Rebecca hopped over to her Dad, also plopping Oliver in Peter’s and Laura’s laps before joining her Dad on the floor.

Talia spotted a diagram, as well as a lot of red ink. Matt’s fingers stopped beneath two words, “This isn’t Star Trek,” he muttered.

“Those were my sentiments when I first came across it. But the Author, an unnamed Mage, had calculated the symptoms to a T, including the inconsistent brain activity,” Deaton responded.

Rebecca practically trembled beside her Dad, “This is so cool.” Peter snorted and Rebecca reddened, “I didn’t mean like that,” she snapped her teeth at him.

Matt patted Rebecca’s clenched fingers and flipped some pages before returning to the one Deaton had bookmarked. “Are you positive it’s this one, they’re very similar?”

Deaton nodded and lifted his gaze to meet Talia’s, “We determined the other Pack’s approximate age. It left only that Ritual as the conclusion.”

“Well what does it say?” Laura piped up from Peter’s side, Oliver and Thomas half sprawled in their laps. Eric nudged Talia in beside him and sighed into her shoulder while she dangled her legs over his, Cora trailing into her Dad’s chest.

Matt shook his head and lifted his glasses, “It’s classed as an Energy Transfer Ritual for lack of better options.” He plopped them back down and sat on his heels, “There’s some major disruption of physics, mathematics and, I suspect, alchemy here.”

Rebecca slid her fingers over the words and briefed them, “To do the Ritual they need an Anchor, someone to guide them into their preferred time period.” She lifted her head up, “Because this is like, a Time thing.”

“What does that mean?” Laura scrunched up her nose and then quieted down when Thomas snuffled into his little fists.

Deaton answered, “It’s a Ritual that allows the Partakers to jump spaces of Time. Either into the Past or to the Future, but the Author suggests that in jumping the Partakers immediately recreate another time stream.” He smiled, “The Multiverse Theory, if you will.”

“Isn’t that something different?” Technical practices had never been her forte but she’d heard enough from her Brother over the years and she’d figure this one out.

“In some way,” Matt read the passages inked inside the Tome. “The principal is the same; it basically means that this Ritual is considered in the realm of possibility. It requires a strong Mage, to develop the Ritual to the level of transfer and then return the souls it transports.”

Talia loosened her tight jaw, “You mean Stiles.” Eric’s pulse sped up until he relived a deep exhale. “Who do you think’s the Anchor?” she asked.

Deaton gestured at Derek’s still form, “The other version of your Son.” Laura practically glared at her still Brother, all their gazes finding Derek. “It makes the most sense; the Anchor and the Mage come through first.”

“And the others?” she asked.

Rebecca tapped the tome, “The Ritual can settle with just the Anchor and the Mage but there doesn’t seem to be a limit to participants. Once the last participant is pulled through though, the Mage has about an hour to send them all back.”

“It’s the participants that are feeding the Ritual,” Matt added. “Once the last ones through it, the Ritual runs on residual energy until it shuts off and all the participants are trapped here.”

Matt brandished the book, pointing his long finger at the pentagon drawn underneath the name in Latin. “There’s some geometric formula involved. The Ritual is powered by their Energy but once that runs out, it’ll go after their spirits which looks pretty catastrophic.”

Rebecca continued, brushing shoulders with her Dad. “Before that happens, they kind of have to give their bodies into the Ritual and it like, deposits them where the Anchor guided it.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” Eric muttered.

Matt pointed repeatedly at him, “Exactly, exactly. If this is real,” Because Matt wouldn’t admit to anything unless the proof was practically on top of him. “Why? It can’t be just because of that Omega, or the Hive.”

He didn’t sound like he believed the last one, “The Queen said someone had sent her after us,” Talia added.

“I think they followed someone here then,” Rebecca bit her lip and nodded. Her messy bun unraveling over her shoulders, “Think about it. Derek didn’t come back to check in on us or anything like that, from what you’ve said, he’s been avoiding us. Well, except the Twins, who don’t remember what they had for breakfast.”

Rebecca brushed it all atop her head and tied her hair in on itself, “For all intents and purposes, Derek doesn’t want to see us. So he wouldn’t come unless it was absolutely necessary, which means, someone forced it onto him. Pack wouldn’t do that, so they had to have followed someone who would do us harm.”

“We don’t know his new Pack,” Laura snapped. Eric shot her warning glance and she sucked in her cheeks and settled back into Peter.

Rebecca’s nostrils flared at which she considered an insult to her intelligence. “That’s actually not a far assumption to make,” Deaton said. Rebecca lifted her chin smugly and Matt nudged his daughter with a long suffering sigh of being around greatness.

“You think the Omega and the Were-Feline are the ones that the Pack followed here?” Talia questioned and Deaton nodded.

Eric huffed, “You said you had good news. When you came in,” he reminded Deaton. They could really use some about now.

The curve of Deaton’s lips twitched and he retrieved a note book from his back pocket. “I think I’ve found the means to track the Mage,” he enlightened.

Finally, those were good news. Derek, the other Derek, would be with the Mage. “I’m coming,” Laura instantly verified. Peter snorted, tucking the snoring Thomas into his chest while he stood.

“Duh,” he rolled his eyes.

Laura double checked with Talia and came away grinning, lifting Oliver to trail after Peter and plop him in bed. Eric patted her thigh, “I’ll bring the shotguns,” he stood.

Talia crossed her ankles, listening while Cora babbled in her sleep and Eric set her down for bed. Her heart warmed at Pack. “I want to come too,” Rebecca had folded her arms, back straight.

“You sure Honey Bun?” her Dad breathed. Talia grinned sharply at the show of Pack protection from both her Brother and her Niece. Deaton nodded his head, trotting down the stairs to summon his trail towards the Mage. She vaguely scented him liberating some herbs and heard a clack of their smashing bowl.

Rebecca nodded and tried to keep the proud grin off her cheeks, “Absolutely positive.” Matt braced his fingers at the back of her neck, pressing a kiss to her forehead and sending her off to get dressed.

“I’ll keep her safe,” Talia told him.

Matt laughed; “Who’s going to keep you safe?” he clapped the tome shut. Talia appreciated the sentiment but found it lacking, she’d survived until this point. They’d survive for some time still and whatever had left Derek alone, she’d stop it. “I’ll watch the fort tonight, but try and bring him home.”

Talia straightened in the chair at Derek’s bedside, “You know I’ll do whatever it takes.” It was getting late and Matt would be passed out in the next twenty minutes, he never lasted long when the moon started setting.

“Just don’t do everything,” he pressed the Tome to his chest. Matt patted Derek’s dry locks, “This is our Derek.” Talia frowned at her Brother but he didn’t take it back.

Talia understood him well enough but there wasn’t a chance she’d make that choice without reluctance. Alone in her Son’s room, she bent at his bedside and pressed a kiss into his forehead. Nothing had changed; there were no new scents and no slight shifting of his fingers.

“Come back to us,” she whispered into his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go!
> 
> Either tomorrow or on Friday it'll be posted, we'll see what I have time for...
> 
> Oh and, I have another Teen Wolf fic in the making, lets hope this one doesn't take as long as the others. *sweats*


	3. The Consequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait here. I have a phobia of finishing large things, it's been documented and irritated multiple people. So, really sorry, my bad. The excuse I used was that I didn't really like how it ended and I couldn't figure out why.   
> The reason was: I'm an asshole.  
> Bonus though, it's an epic-ally long chapter.

Talia wrinkled her nose at the heavy scent of Wolfbane clinging to the shot guns strapped across her Husband’s leather jacket, “I’ll keep my distance,” he indulged.

Talia growled, “No you won’t.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips to swallow his hug, smiling as their eldest groaned when she trotted down the stairs. The Wolfbane scratched the underside of her throat in clear warning against remaining too close. Talia fluttered her fingers into his hair and enveloped him with the press of her body.

Talia wasn’t keeping her distance when one of her own might not even want to look at them.

Eric softened against her lips with a final kiss, his bright gaze fluttering open as Rebecca plopped to Laura’s side to zip up her jacket. Rebecca tufted, “It’s like you’ve never seen people kiss before.” Laura’s scowl didn’t avert.

“I have the location,” Deaton mentioned from the kitchen. Her Pack piled in to find that bright crimson spot glowing at a location on a map of the area, Laura and Rebecca sneezing at the sharp scent of mistletoe and blood.

Talia noted, “Just outside out territory.” It didn’t bode well. Deaton’s blank mask wilted with recess of concern, “What is it, Deaton?” Just because it didn’t bode well didn’t mean her Pack wouldn’t come out victorious.

They’d get Derek to explain, or to come back. That was that.  

Deaton didn’t inhale deeply but it was a close thing. “It’s incredibly safe to assume those targeting you have prior knowledge of you and your Pack, Alpha Hale. I just wished to issue caution,” he said.

Talia knew Deaton liked them. “Deaton, we’ve got this,” Talia assured.

Eric scrutinized the map with his palm splayed over the small of her back. “I’ll take the Camaro,” and like that, her Pack was out the door.

Laura hit the night air, Peter on her heels and Rebecca taking up the rear with a snuffing shake of her shoulders. Talia released her Husband’s fingers, glancing at Matt in the door way with a firm nod. Eric’s Camaro beeping as he slid inside, the engine rushing to life under his hands.

Talia lit up the sky with protective howl, promising that no harm would befall her Pack. Her Daughter’s higher howl pitched upward, mingling alongside Peter’s and Rebecca’s ravaged – fur sprouting over their bodies.

Matt locked the door at his back and Talia shot down the salted roads, her Husband’s car rumbling at her side as her Beta’s yowled and scampered upon her heels. Talia ducked into the wood’s underbrush at the growl of another car, catching Peter’s blue orbs before they pulled forward.

Beacon Hills faded to a slow murmur of white noise, her Pack landed on dusty high ground with the wind blowing to their advantage. Talia pressed Laura back, ducking behind it and her Beta’s followed, peering over the edge at the somewhat barren warehouse at the other side.

“He’s there,” Laura swallowed and Talia shot her look to quiet down. Best they not push their luck, and narrowed her gaze at the duo standing just inside the warehouse’s bounds. “Derek’s right there,” she continued, seemingly unable to hold it in.

Talia cupped her Daughter’s palm as Rebecca halted a grunt in her throat and Peter got a little too close. “I just don’t get it,” the Mage, Stiles, was saying, his arms just as animated as earlier.

“It’s not for you to get Stiles,” Derek, because by Goddess, that was her Derek. Older, more savaged by life, angry definitely but still; her Son. Laura’s whine only muffled by Peter’s quick-thinking hand.

“Then explain it to me,” Stiles insisted. Moonlight illuminating the duo, Stiles’ pale skin layered in sweaters and jackets, and Derek. Their Son, tall with strong shoulders and excessive muscle – he must have been an Alpha at some point – a hint of stubble over his jaw which hid the dimples there, and flashing eyes under large brows.

Eric pressed fingers to her shoulder, carefully sliding down to take the cold space at her side. His hazel eyes were bright, brows furrowed and lips moving in silent understanding. “It’s not that simple, Stiles,” Derek growled out.

Eric wouldn’t be able to understand but he stiffened and Talia nodded, unable to halt the smile at their Son’s voice. “It never is, is it?” Stiles returned, he released a large pent up breath and braced his hands over Derek’s stiff shoulders. “Listen, I just – this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and what-ifs are killers. I don’t want it to weigh on you after – all this.”

“It won’t,” Derek said but it was in that petulant whining manner he used when trying to get out of chores. Talia snuffed out the joy at hearing that again, not bothering to quiet the quirk of her Betas’ lips.

“Really, Growly, I’m the pathological denier of this relationship.” Derek sighed long suffering and Stiles grinned brightly, it softened around the edges, “You really think they won’t want to see you?”

Derek shook his head, pressing his lips together and shrugged head downtrodden. “It’s not - I’m not him, I haven’t been for a long time and I’ll – I’ve changed, Stiles. I wouldn’t be able to leave if I –" he grunted, pressing a hand to his head.

Stiles wrapped their Derek, large and overgrown and grief-laden Derek, into an encompassing embrace. His head burrowing into Derek’s neck to mutter words the wind couldn’t carry and Derek clasped his arms over Stiles’ spine, pressing their bodies together with ease.

Talia grabbed her Husband’s fingers to halt her impulse to grab their son and stow him away into a painless shelter. But Stiles, who truly hadn't deserved her threats lightened Derek’s load, his ramrod shoulders relaxing under Stiles’ arms.

That was good. That was really all she could hope for her son. Eric clasped her palm, his breaths rustling against her ear and temple.

“Derek,” the dark-skinned Beta called from the warehouse's shadow, and exhaled a growl, "He's asking for you." Talia couldn't pinpoint the voices insides, multiple thick walls muffled individualism and intention.

Derek's head had turned, hidden from view, but Stiles grimaced, fingers squeezing Derek's elbow. "Give him hell," Stiles encouraged, and Derek huffed. He muttered something the wind didn't catch and Stiles grinned.

Their Son trailed inside with the dark-skinned Beta. Stiles released a frustrated exhale, scrabbled with his messy brown hair in thought as he walked further out of the compounds perimeter.

It was time. Talia inhaled and nodded at Laura and Peter, knocked her eyes back for Rebecca to remain at center point and squeezed her Husband's fingers for a final beat of strength.

Laura and Peter snatched the cue, bolting for the warehouse. Stiles yelped as he spotted them, a gritted gray glowed on his hands as he snapped them in an aggressive arch.

Peter snarled and hauled Laura around the middle to halt her headfirst tackle into the raised Mountain Ash perimeter. Laura grunted and growled, nodded at Peter for the save; she'd always been the fastest but had difficulty stopping. "Stiles," Laura growled out.

Stiles lowered his hand and took a few pained steps back inside the newly constructed Mountain Ash perimeter. Talia landed at her Daughter's side, Rebecca followed and Eric cocked his gun, remained firmly on their side.

"You've been here a while," Stiles swallowed and winced, "Haven't you?"

Talia sights narrowed but she shook off residual frustration. "Let us talk to Derek." Stiles wince became a grimace, fingers vanished inside his sweaters for an anxious fist.

Rebecca eyed the Mountain Ash where it ran behind the warehouse, and Eric, who could easily bypass it. "Look. I know. He knows. You're here but it's not going to happen. Not if he doesn't want it," Stiles tried. It was nearly a plead, "Just go home, please. We're fixing this, I promise, and soon your Derek will awaken. Please, just go home."

Laura reminded, "Dad," Amber orbs flickered at the Mountain Ash border.

Eric followed it and Stiles shook his head, palms raised in surrender. "Dude, please. Think about this. This is so not how I wanted to meet the parents and none of this is going how it should've, so allow him this, okay? Please, let him have control of this."

Rebecca whined, a low frustrated sound usually accompanied by an exclamation of 'that doesn't make sense' in front of a book. Her daughter's eyes burned in tears and Talia wouldn't abandon her son here. Except, he had asked for control and she didn't know if it was her right to demand answers.

Except shouldn't it be even more necessary that Talia fix what she could? There's a stubborn part of her heart, insisting that Pack never abandon their own, because it wasn't a question of wish or wants, it was a knowledge of need.

Except, Talia did not know much about the Son who'd lost too much.

The wild yowl of the Omega vibrated through the warehouse, hitting the silent night air to the extent the Humans heard it. Stiles cursed and Talia’s gut twisted, at the knowledge that other Weres’ had arrived upon her territory.

In a heartbeat, a high-pitched scream stabbed through her chest, clamping on the air in her lungs and Rebecca shrieked as she fell to her knees with claws clasped over her ears.  

Talia growled the blurriness from her vision; a Banshee upon her territory didn’t bode well, especially with so much at stake. Eric found her gaze, curling Laura into his chest to hear his thundering heartbeat.

Stiles paced the Mountain Ash like he was trapped, “Lydia, oh god, Lydia,” he hissed.

Eric’s large palm rubbed Rebecca’s spine as she sucked in soothing breaths, the glaze blinking from her gaze. The scream was primal, instinctual and urged them all to bolt so as not to fall victim, “Why is there a Banshee?” she growled at Stiles.

He was wide-eyed, terrified to the bone, biting at his lips to stop the anxious smile, and then he halted, staring fixed at a particularly dark shadow in the forest.

They’d arrived.

Talia landed guard in front her Pack, Peter staggering to his feet to spread his claws and guard her back. Just as the Were-Feline faded from the darkness into the moonlight, a platinum haired Werewolf yanked at her side by claws upon her throat.

Her cerulean skin heavily tattooed, and her head swung backwards to spare them the widening of her lips, exposing bloodied white fangs, “Stiles,” she greeted.

Talia snarled, urging the Were-Feline to drop the Werewolf. She was straggling for a hold on splintered knees, her claws driving long rivets though the cerulean skin, and the Were-Feline didn’t feel it. “You don’t need this one, do you?” the Were-Feline shook the Werewolf, cutting of the yowl with tightening of her fist.

Stiles fists were clenched, frustrated concern stark in the night as the blood in the Werewolf’s curling locks. Talia would bring that Were-Feline down, nobody messed with her kind. Eric’s gun was cocked, brandished at the Were-Feline and Talia certified distances to keep him protected.

The Were-Feline finally found them, morbid humor drifting over each of her Pack as they stood, prepared to claw her out. “And you don’t even know what’s going on here, do you?” she cackled, high and giddy.

Talia caught the scent only a second after the petite woman appeared, a ravaged scowl guiding a glittering hairpin into the Were-Feline’s unprotected spine. Her pained yowl signified the beginning of a fight.

The thick crimson locks spilled over a shoulder and Talia realizes instinctively that this is a Banshee, and death would follow in her wake.

As long as those deaths weren’t of her Pack, or its protectors Talia welcomed her whole-heartedly.

Talia charged the Were-Feline, throwing her into the darkened forest with a grunt at newly snapped ribs. She snorted out the whispering bitterness of a not altogether mind, eyeing the Banshee lugging the Werewolf over to Stiles.

The Mountain Ash line dispersed with a single flick of his wrist, “Erica breathe,” Stiles ordered frantically. His glowing mint fingertips fitting over her ravaged throat while the Banshee glowered at the woods chin raised and poise, extremely prepared to handle whatever stepped out.

And exit, the Were-Feline did, spitting out a dollop of blood with a heightened laugh, twirling the crimson bejeweled hairpin. Her long violet tongue tasted blood – that was just unsanitary. The Were-Feline’s orbs were a pale blue, pasty with shallow sanity, and the hairpin landed, tip into the mud.

A wall of the warehouse imploded, Wild Child skidding to topple over harsh gravel and by Goddess, she was a furious Were, stomping to her blood incrusted boots. “That’s all you got, Dad,” she growled, nudging blood trailing down her lip.

Were-Feline cackled, high pitched and pleased. Talia would wipe that too large grin from those cheeks. Rebecca’s chest heaved with air, keeping her spot at Eric’s side without backing out. Talia had half a mind to send her back. The other insisted Pack remained together.

Inside the warehouse, a loud groan permitted a foot sauntering though the broken wall. Wild Child sniffed them out, and bestowed Stiles a semi-apologetic shrug, “I think they’re going to find out.”

Stiles looked two seconds away from committing Wild Child to mind healers.

“I hope I’m not too late for the party,” the Omega snickered but that voice, Talia knew that voice. She’d grown up with that voice, and her Brother hissed, staggering backwards at the sight of the Omega. Her Brother’s dispassionate ice orbs found her, “Sister,” he smirked.

What? That wasn’t...

“It’s been so long,” Omega crooned. Her little Brother wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be ice; he wouldn’t have that assured confidence. Except maybe, he would when grown…?

Laura whined, agony striking through her brow as she stepped forward to protect Peter from the sight. “I should warn you not to turn your back to me, it didn’t work very well for you last time,” he divulged with a short snort.

His bright azure orbs crinkled shut with the pleasure. Laura snarled at him, her confusion masking over into anger at the fact. It even looked like Talia's Brother, older like Derek but not – not sane, not right in the head.

His burnt stench remained, never wafting with the billowing wind and never dying at Wild Child’s protective growl ahead of them. “You’re not Peter,” Rebecca broke out. Her chest heaving, her dark curly hair licking her ears, “You’re not my Uncle.”

Rebecca huddled back, the first words which weren’t checked facts fleeing her lips in their will to be true. She didn’t dare remove her gaze from the smirk upon the Omega’s lips while they cracked open, “You’re usually so smart, Rebecca.”

Her Niece flinched and Eric cocked the gun right at the Omega’s heart. “That’s no way to treat family,” the Were-Feline hissed and Erica, the Werewolf, growled back. “In fact,” she continued, eyeing Erica with a pleased gleam. “I’m practically family, wouldn’t you say, Stiles?”

Stiles gritted his teeth but his eyes were wide, like every plan had fizzled to an end without enough to tie them off. “I’ll say you’re a psycho bitch who needs to shut the fuck up,” Was what he said.

The Were-Feline licked her fangs. In her little Brother’s voice, Omega mentioned, “Kate killed you all.” Were-Feline exploded into rancorous cackles, ecstatic with Omega’s bland confession.

Fire, that’s how they died. And Derek lived, and that’s why Omega’s mind was burnt. He’d been trapped, caught inside the flames and his heart had died. Rebecca struggled to breathe, and Eric gripped her shoulder.

Laura clutched her chest, a shriek squealing between her teeth.

“It wasn’t too difficult to forgive,” Omega picked dark lint from his singed shirt. His cold stare found Laura, “Especially considering what I got in return.” 

Peter flinched at Omega’s lethal grin, incessantly shaking his head at the picture Omega painted. Talia needed to get him out of there. Talia needed to get her Pack out of there.

“You’re lying,” Laura pleaded, gnashed through her fangs. Talia’s head sparked up at the chance, the miniscule chance.

The Omega gazed at Laura, a soft light of recollection swallowed by his indifference and subsequent pleasure. “If only you knew what I’ll do to you,” his fractured soul released a soft whisper.

Eric’s shot gun exploded, and the Omega dodged in the final startled moment to avoid the bullet.

He glared at the Omega, as if Omega were any other threat that came close to their Pack. “Stay away from my Pack,” Eric intoned, cocking back his weapon for another shot.

That was it. They wouldn’t wait for the future to chase up to them. They’d fight this. Talia hunkered to a crouch with a low growl, “You’re not my Brother.”

Peter snapped to find her and she nodded. Omega raised his head with forced stillness, his too thin pupils spotting Peter. “He knows that I am,” he crooned, and Peter flinched back.

Omega snickered.

Gritty crimson engulfed Stiles’ hand, Magic’s overly sweetened scent flinging Omega back into the shadow of the Warehouse. He sucked in a deep breath, words on his lips and took to glide forward but he found he couldn’t.

Talia scented out Were-Feline’s dash, abruptly at the place Omega had stood, clawing at the ground to remain upright. Her sharp claws flexed, her tongue licking a fang to illuminate the sliver of blood coating the tips.

Banshee clasped her lips shut, as blood welled in a large arch from Stiles throat.

He toppled back, and Wild Child lunged at Were-Feline with a gnashed snarl, her claws barely skimming the creepily laughing chest. Erica hissed when her accompanying slashes missed Were-Feline, the duo striking in an uncoordinated dash.

Talia came with claws for a reason. Her throat exposed at the bellowing roar escaping from her lungs. Nobody threatened her Pack.

Were-Feline narrowly backpedaled from Laura’s swipe, Wild Child’s kick snapping at her spine with a crack and Were-Feline snarled at Wild Child’s cold grin. 

Rebecca had skidded to Stiles, pressing his pallid form to her shoulder and did her best to stem the bleeding with shaking fingers. She shouldn’t be here; there was too much blood for a Cub.

Banshee charged at the forest, a duo of figures lumbering out, their scalps shielded by the bones of bear heads. This was bad. “Peter!” Talia ordered. His link frayed and shaken, Talia couldn’t get a good grasp. He wasn’t staring at anything.

Omega laughed hoarsely from inside the warehouse, the clang of steel on claws screeched out and the dark-skinned Beta roared. Banshee screamed, energy shocking the Bear Head’s backward, their stride never faltering as she ducked their attacks and screamed out.

Eric fired at the other Bear Head’s exposed chest. It clenched its bone laden fists and charged forward, its chest steaming and Talia realized these were Berserkers. Talia snarled, bracing her shoulder against the Berserker’s sternum and watched him skid backwards, but not far enough.

Banshee was thrown back like an unwanted ragdoll, landing hard on her elbow with a shallow gasp. Talia ducked the newly unoccupied Berserker, ducking its first attack to fall into its second. Talia flew backwards at the punch in her ribs, rolling midair to land upon her toes and claw the dusty cement to stop her descent.

Suddenly Derek appeared, skidding under the Berserker’s claws to reach Stiles, his panic almost swallowed by the battle. Derek spared Rebecca a glance, ducking his head to haul Stiles into his lap and settle his thick fingers over the slashed neck.

He wouldn’t lose anyone else, Talia swore that.

Eric took a shot at the Berserker, the Korean – a dark Kitsune, by the dark ginger tail – launched after the bullet, stabbing the Berserker through the spine. Talia was surprised her blade didn’t snap, it slid off but successfully garnered the Berserker’s attention. 

Were-Feline screeched as Erica dislocated her shoulder, Wild-Child’s fangs buried in cerulean skin, and Laura unhinged Were-Feline’s jaw with a rapid punch.

Instantly the Berserker’s halted their assaults, swiveling as one to charge the congregation attacking Were-Feline. Talia landed upon its back, strangling her claws into its throat for it to stagger. Nothing would be hurting this Pack, “Eric!” It crashed backwards with the butt of the gun crushing the back of its knee cap, Eric continued to fire at it in point blank range.

The legs and foot beneath evaporated into dust, its silent body bucked as if in pain. It had to stay away from her Pack. Talia hissed, swinging around to dig her sharp claws into its chest, snapping away the protective layer of bone to get to the parts that bled.

Eric braced his gun sideways as the other Berserker managed to dislodge Kitsune, her wayward sword screeching across the barrel as they were thrown away. The Berserker beneath her silently scrambled, Talia ripped the bear helmet apart, the Berserker’s form disintegrating to flaking ash and she swiveled to chuck the parts at the other Berserker’s wrist to drop her daughter.

Laura landed backwards, utilizing the monument to swing her legs out and trip the final Berserker away. The dark-skinned Beta crashed into the dusty earth beside Peter, a low groan accompanying his attempt to stand despite the gaping wound in his side.

Her Daughter howled, agonized and frustrated, scavenging at Omega with claws drawn. He laughed, high and detrimentally pleased, and Talia had the sudden belief her daughter had fallen into a trap. “Laura!” He swung his claws up suddenly, aiming to rip apart her stomach from bottom to top.

Peter got clipped with claws; roar muffled by his fangs snapping upon Omega’s collar. Omega hissed, claws burying into Peter’s sides and Laura launched forward, knocking Omega into the shadow of the Warehouse. Her daughter’s triumphant howl only managing to settle the dissipating panic.

Peter was back. The Pack could beat them, and Matt wouldn’t believe her when she confessed all that had occurred. Talia hardly believed it. Kitsune muttered, “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” as she dislodged her elbow braced in Eric’s sternum.

He grunted, “It happens.” Eric leveled onto his elbows and surveyed the Were-Feline losing against Wild Child, while Erica stole the lone Berserker’s attention. Eric was prone to bruises from Werewolf children who didn’t understand the fragility of human bones.

Talia tugged him to his feet with a muffled snicker, and his lips tilted. The Korean bowed her head in respect; the tilt of her head catching Erica’s dodged attack, and held her sword in ready at her side as she stormed ahead.

Eric picked up the bent barrel of his shot gun, slipping it around his back – “How you holding up?”- Before, swinging round the second to warm his grip. That would be a question best left answered for later.

Magic hit her nostrils, and she twirled, spotting Derek’s hunched form a shimmering ice blue, while his energy was sucked into the Mage’s skin. Rebecca stared at them wide-eyed, Banshee having taken her shoulder in effort to steady her back.

Talia growled intent on stopping it when Stiles’ bright lilac orbs popped open. He sucked in a deep breath, the wound on his throat only a slim crimson line, and he hacked the rest out his throat. “Derek,” he rasped, and the glow faded, her Son’s bloodied fingers curling round Stiles’ chest.

Eric found her fingers and she smiled, as Derek cupped Stiles’ head safe against his chest. He loved him, he really loved him. “He’ll be okay,” Talia assured. It wasn’t hard to deny her wellbeing was directly tied to her Pack, more to the point, her children.

Rebecca exhaled, removing her jacket to create a makeshift sling for the pallid Banshee. Her crimson lipstick like blood over her lips, pain furrowing her brows as Rebecca worked, “Thank you,” she said.

Rebecca smiled shakily, gaze flickering over Derek, already cataloguing the tilt of his smile and the ruffle of his dark hair in the wind. “Okay. Thank you,” Rebecca returned.

Omega howled, abruptly free from the muffling of the warehouse walls, and Talia’s heart clenched for Laura and Peter. Her husband’s palm dropped for sharp claws at the whiff of a scorched mind.

Suddenly, pinpricks of black in ice orbs filled her vision, the blank whiteness jarring at the slink of claws at her stomach. Talia yowled, fierce and aching, as her claws bit into Omega’s throat.

Talia wouldn’t be stolen from her Pack before dragging the one who’d kidnapped her from it. He wouldn’t get to her Pack.

Her little brother’s face stared back at her, and she couldn’t do it, despite the agony striking through her spine. His claws sinking into her stomach and Talia shivered, roaring in an attempt to be free, squeezing at the blood matted throat but unable to just snap it.

“Mum!” Laura screamed – no, her daughter! Let her go, she had to get to her daughter!

Eric blasted Omega.

Her Pack! Goddess, her Pack, Omega wasn’t her Pack.

Omega unhooked from her stomach, swiping at her Husband, and Talia howled, slashing at his side while Omega lunged. Eric dodged, swinging up his shot gun to pummel it into Omega’s jaw and carrying through to knock it into Omega’s clawed throat.

He chocked backwards far enough for Talia to smash her fist into the Omega’s nose.

Talia hissed as It bled.

The Omega soared back as Talia toppled, Eric clamping his arms over her stricken stomach. Omega cackled, high and crazed, immediately set to charge back at them.

Derek slammed into the Omega and they skidded over the hard gravel. Derek landed on top with a pained roar, claws airborne to dagger through the Omega’s chest but Omega bucked, twisting around to toss Derek across the courtyard.

It hissed in pleasure, swirling around to land in a dark crouch. “Going to kill me again dear Nephew,” Its cheeks split with a feral grin. “That didn’t work in your favor last time.”

Derek was desperate, flickering between his precious people and Omega who threatened them with her Brother’s features. Omega had to stop, he was hurting her Son, and yet all he did was laugh all the harder. Talia would rip him apart.

Suddenly Omega stopped with a jarring tilt of his head, listening to whatever his scorched mind possessed. Talia sucked in dry breaths as Eric lowered her down, blood squelching with each movement and she braced her bloodied hand on his shoulder to calm the helplessness.

It shouldn’t take too long to heal with her Pack in the midst of battle. Just let it be enough.

And then, at the edge of her senses Talia caught what had the Omega halt. Her Pack wasn’t safe, Talia rattled off the pain, shoving at the discomfort and sweat broke over her skin as a howl lit up the night sky. “Alpha – There’s an Alpha coming,” Talia cautioned.

Every instinct howled to attack the oncoming Alpha, tear him to pieces before he touched her Pack. “It’s okay,” Eric breathed into her hair. It wasn’t, there was an Alpha coming and he could hurt her wounded Pack.

His heart thundered at her ear, the clamped slit of her stomach tightening to arduous levels, and Talia sucked in his scent to calm down. Okay, Talia could focus on healing, all the better to protect her Pack.

She had to deny the instincts clawing at her throat. Talia could do a lot for her Pack.

“Scott, thank God,” Stiles hissed. He staggered upright, rubbing at the dried blood that had cascaded like a crimson waterfall over his neck and through his sweaters. Their Alpha, Derek’s new Alpha had arrived, and Talia bowed her head into Eric’s throat.

Beaten and bloodied Were-Child collapsed on her side, Were-Feline’s cerulean skin terrorized by claws as she struggled to stand at full height. Were-Feline angrily threw out her matted blond locks, “You don’t even know the best bit. Do they Der-Bear?”

Derek shrunk, abject terror contorting the strength he’d found. He was terrified and when Laura growled, “Don’t call him that!” Derek flinched.

Were-Feline gained on Derek, his fangs clamped shut, blood trickling down his clenched fists, “I didn’t even have to try, did I Der-Bear?” And Talia understood. Derek had grieved Paige, finding comfort in Were-Feline and to her, Derek was only a way in to kill them all.  

Talia felt this certainty when she’d decided Eric would be her Mate, and the night they’d decided to raise their own cubs. And now, Talia ultimately knew for certain:

Were-Feline wouldn’t escape Talia alive.

Were-Feline paused, gliding a cerulean palm through the gritty crimson light littered atop her chest. All Were-Feline’s manic confidence lost at the threat, “Don’t even try it, Kid!” Stiles quirked a humorless grin.

Instantly, Berserker charged exceedingly fast, barely a blur of fury at Stiles, where he stood with a raised pale palm beside Rebecca and Banshee.

Stiles clenched a fist, and Were-Feline chocked on a scream at the simultaneous snap of her ribs, knees barely catching her tortured weight.

The dark-skinned Beta tackled the Berserker, halting its course to skid sideways where it punched Beta’s squelching wound, “Boyd!” Erica raced forward.

The Alpha appeared from the shadows of trunks, in his physical prime with tanned muscles and bright crimson orbs. Talia smothered her reflective snarl in Eric’s throat, unable to halt the thrumming instinct insisting she fight unless he kills her Pack.

Alpha didn’t notice, his force throwing Berserker to stone, and snapped the bear skull from its head in a practiced take down. He panted, rising off the flaking Berserker to glower at the Were-Feline.

Her Pack, no matter how well trained, couldn’t have handled this alone. Derek had known and rallied his Pack to protect them. Alpha was here to assist. Talia only needed to let him. No Pack could have handled what had come, and Talia truly hoped no Pack ever did.

On the Alpha’s trail, a final Werewolf kicked into sight, a Hunter firmly clambering from his back to aim her crossbow at the Were-Feline. Without a single doubt they were the strangest Pack, Talia had ever witnessed.

“Stop this now,” Alpha ordered.

Talia clamped down on the urge to fight him on principal.

Omega bared his fangs, rolling out his wounded shoulder to stretch out his newly healed collar. “Is that an order, Scottie?” he chided, all gnashed teeth.

Were-Feline hissed in dubious pleasure, stretching over her snapped ribs and fortunately staggering to her feet. Talia would take much pleasure in dismembering Were-Feline’s head from her neck.  “Yes, think you can stop me from getting what I want?” she panted.

Insane as Omega and Were-Feline are, there was a truth to their tone. Alpha was just a child; barely breaching adulthood and no child should have to rectify an adult’s mistake.

And Omega and Were-Feline were Talia’s.

Talia patted Eric’s arm, the slight movement revealing the slashed skin beneath no longer required an arm to keep her guts inside. His leather jacket colored crimson in excessive amounts of her blood and the slim cut through her tank top and stomach, the only proof she’d been slit.

Now all she needed was a little blood on her lips to regain strength.

She tested her weight upon Eric’s shoulder, ascending to her feet and rid the jacket from her shoulders. “I’ll kill this one,” Talia nodded at Omega. Alpha found her crimson gaze, and Talia tilted her head, “And then I’m going after you,” she told Were-Feline.

Talia jolted Peter and Laura’s links.

Laura hissed as they pounced, Laura snapping hard at Omega’s chewed out shoulder blade and Peter ducking beneath a swiping arm to elbow the already festering bullet wound. Omega yowled out.

Talia rattled the blood clinging to her hand, flexing each curving finger, while her Beta’s dislocated Omega’s shoulders, pinning them down upon the small of his back.

Omega hissed out a cackle, as Talia sauntered forward as Laura and Peter snapped the bones of his knees against the stone.

She soothed Rebecca’s link, and her Niece scrunched her eyes shut, slapping hands over her ears.

His morbid amusement clouded forsaken agony, “I’d always known you’d be around at my end, Sister.” Peter jerked Omega’s fingers further up his spine and Omega yowled instinctively, snapping fangs at her brother’s face.

Peter hissed back, blood splattered over his cheek and his ear heavily mangled. Were-Feline screamed, “Monsters!” Attempting to flee and the Hunter’s crossbow clicked at the tilt of her wrist.

Were-Feline collapsed, dragging her lame leg behind her as she screeched, “You wouldn’t do this, Allison!” The final Werewolf, angelic curls over his ears and bright amber orbs pinned onto her ankle. “They’ve gotten into your head, they’re the monsters!”

“No,” Alpha informed gravely, “You’ve always been the monster, Kate.”

Talia crouched before the defiled Omega, scorched mind barely reliving a hint of familiarity in his scent. Her little brother had been inside there, burnt away by the flames that took her family and then by the flames that brought him here.

She placed a soothing palm upon his head, “I’m so sorry,” Talia admitted. She never wished this to become her brother and she would do everything in her power to make certain he didn’t fall.

Omega snarled from her grasp in his singed hair, and Talia soothed Peter and Laura’s link assuring them it would be alright to shut their eyes. Peter’s amber gaze stared back at her, and Laura sucked in a deep breath to govern her center.

It was their choice, and Talia nodded as Omega, “You know you’ll be here again!” She twisted her wrist, cleaving his head from his spinal cord in a single swipe.

Were-Feline wailed, and Laura spared the singed soul a final mourning howl, her Brother’s whine aggravated and troubled, and Rebecca threw her head back to join. Wild Child trailed after, high with sorrow and rough with exertion.

Talia gently laid Omega’s pallid corpse at her feet, shifting his unseeing gaze at the few stars breaching the midnight wind.  Peter’s link thrummed with gratefulness, Laura flinging Peter into a crushing embrace. His gaze bleary but Peter raised his fingers, carefully digging into her spine and exhaled into her shoulder as if it was all beneath him.

Just when Talia had thought she’d never witness anything else familiar from her little Brother.  

Rebecca raced at them, instinct plowing her head first into Laura and Peter, and they grabbled and swallowed her full into their tight embrace, rocking into a bloodied relieved huddle. Rebecca squeezing the duo into a bone creaking embrace and Laura pressed a messy kiss to her temple, wrapping an arm over her neck.

But there was still one final disaster to rectify, and Talia readily accepted it.

Eric palm warmed her shoulder, the shot guns already pulled towards his back and guarding watchfully over their Pack.

Were-Feline shrieked at her approaching amble, “Scottie, you don’t kill remember, you can’t let her kill me – “ Alpha growled and Wild Child followed it through, “– Allison, I’m family! You won’t let her kill me!”

Allison, ebony locks pinned in an intricate knot, shook her head with a morose smile. “You haven’t been my family for a long time, Aunt Kate,” Allison clenched her strong jaw, nodding at Talia. Alpha stood at her back, running a hand along her spine when Were-Feline jolted beneath the final Werewolf and Erica.

“No! I’m not dying here!” Were-Feline bucked, everything attempted to jostle Erica and the final Werewolf from burying her spine.

Talia kept her boots in Were-Feline’s vision as she checked with Alpha, there wouldn’t be any stepping of toes, not when in such a precarious situation. Alpha swallowed, “I know my Pack doesn’t have jurisdiction here. I wouldn’t, but this isn’t our home and I have to…” he recited.

“Let me handle the consequences,” Talia softened. Derek froze, Boyd’s arm over his shoulder as he helped the Beta stand, the Mage standing just the little bit in front to protect. Talia eyed Alpha, “Advice from me to you. There are some things that are unforgivable.”

With a flash of her orbs, Erica and the final Werewolf edged back to their Pack, and Talia’s heel pinned upon Were-Feline’s throat. She gasped, clawing at her boot, “Der-!” Talia pressured just that little bit harder.

Talia bent over her knee, narrowed vision finding the fear lighting up those frigid ice orbs. “Don’t you ever talk to my Son,” Talia growled.

In a flick of her heel, Were-Feline’s neck snapped, those cerulean features fading to marred tanned skin of a woman who’d had too much power and not enough compassion.

Kate would never sink her fangs into her Son. And that was that.

Derek’s Pack had gathered, there were ten of them, no two related with only a smattering of definitive werewolves. They truly were the oddest Pack Talia had ever witnessed, though they were strong and good, and that’s all she cared about.

Stiles’ clasped Derek’s bloodied palm, their fingers flexing and pressed. Derek, older than he should be, stared at the easy pile of her Beta’s. She thought maybe he missed them and Talia could fix that.

Talia smoothed bloodied locks behind her ear, eying the Pack that’d done all they could. She spared them an exhausted smile, “You don’t have long, do you?” Talia checked.

Majority of them didn’t understand what Talia referred to, all confused expression on blood splattered baby fat cheeks. She’d have thought they were hunting in the forest just a few seconds ago.

“You know,” Rebecca piped up, sticking close to Talia’s side. Her words no longer colored in such confidence and Talia gave her a delicate smile, “The Ritual. It’s that time thing, right?” Stiles perked up, and Alpha checked with him. “We have the book,” Rebecca checked, “And Deaton, who you like, probably need.”

Stiles didn’t head closer, his fist tightening over Derek’s with his recollection. “Yeah, we do,” Stiles mentioned.

Eric held her fingers, securing Talia gratefully against him to rub at his temples. “You should probably come over to finish the Ritual,” Talia offered.

Stiles and Alpha didn’t appear too enthused with the offer. Derek’s expression a mired of longing hope and object horror. “We have enough room, as well,” Eric enticed.

“Also,” Talia added, “Mattie won’t believe me when I tell him so I’ll need hard, concrete proof.”

Rebecca clung to the idea, nodding so rapidly Talia ran a hand through her locks to keep her calm. Mattie had a knack for switching the emotional element of a situation to intellectual enjoyment. Rebecca might need that right about now.

It was Derek that nodded at Alpha’s undecided shrug, and Stiles diluted grin that hit them. He semi-froze, calculating distant data, grimaced at the outcome, tilted his head to appraise them and then faced Talia with a nod. “We’ll need to pick up some bodies before we get started,” Stiles checked.

Talia truly enjoyed how simple it was to read him. That was probably a reason why Derek had fallen for him.

Laura’s link fluttered in excited anxiousness as Talia smiled, “However we can help.” It would be difficult to handle another Alpha in the heart of her territory but that’s exactly where she wanted them to be. It would make all their Packs safe.

Alpha swiveled to face his Pack, “Let’s go,” he ordered. The Pack bolted through her territory, searching and scavenging for their own scents intent on bringing them back home. Talia winced at the frustrated scratch in her throat.

Laura snuffled into Eric’s back and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, finally eliciting a roll of her eyes. She checked with Peter before zooming home, intent on not leaving the Pack unguarded and unprepared. Rebecca remained, tucked into her side where Talia curled a bloodied palm through her locks.

It left Stiles, the Banshee and the Hunter where they stood; the latter very pointedly tucked away her weapons. Her Husband pressed a kiss to her cheek and found his keys, “I’ve got a car over that hill. What are your names?”

Talia surveyed the area where things hadn’t gone right but definitely hadn’t gone wrong. She’d prepare for the future. No one would have her Pack. Hunter nodded, smile quaint, “I’m Allison.” She introduced, “That’s Lydia and I’m guessing you know Stiles.”

Eric tilted his shoulders, “In passing,” his lips tilted.

Stiles didn’t know if that was a joke or not, ringing his hands in nervous determination. Good kids, the whole of them.

Her Husband guided the teens towards the Camaro. Stiles’ gaze flickered between the two of them, sucking his lower lip into his mouth to curb his crooked grin. “Really glad that bit’s over,” he admitted with a short laugh and jogged after Eric and his Pack Mates.

Talia was too.  

She was fond though, perhaps a little bit bewildered at the fact. Rebecca answered with Talia’s sentiments, “I think they fit.” After all, her Son had his peculiarities as well.

Talia picked up her matted bloodied jacket. Pleased to find all of her Beta’s wounds had sealed shut, “Let’s go home,” she intoned.

Peter’s howl released into the breeze, answered by her Beta’s howls upon her heels until other howls were thrown into the sky, triumphant and victorious they cheered and Laura snickered.

Talia bypassed the rumbling Camaro shifting through the dry roads, hitting her tree line for the first rays of sun light and amber grass. Matt threw open the door and chimed, “Oh thank Goddess,” he bowed over his knees.

A few seconds later, Matt had scooped Rebecca to his chest, muttering into her raven curls. Her Pack smelled like Home, warm air swirling from their house into the cold driveway. “Yeah, we’re all fine Dad,” Rebecca replied but didn’t relive her tight grip.

Deaton awaited inside the door frame, Cora having taken to him if the way she clutched his trousers was anything to go by. “Mummy,” Cora cheered when Talia lifted her up and sniffled into her hair. Her Pack was safe, well nearly all of them.

Derek’s link was weak, running upon fumes and proving how time wasn’t on their side. Matt had fitted Peter into a tight hug, “I’m glad you’re okay, little Bro.” Peter exhaled long suffering, deciding to sniff into Matt’s neck hesitantly.

Talia’s heart expanded as Matt beamed and Cora clapped her hands with a high giggle, dropping Mr. Bubbles in her haste. Talia shook crispy mud from the toy when Eric’s Camaro swerved into the driveway. Cora threw her hands up, “Daddy!”

Eric parked and stepped out, tilting the seat for Stiles and the Hunter to step out. Cora stuffed Mr. Bubbles under arm and grabbed at Eric, who curled her into his chest. Talia managed a smile at him and his bright orbs crinkled at the edge while he kissed the back of her palm.

Deaton wandered over to the Other Pack, handing the tomb over to the Mage, whose expression was smothered beyond discretion. “I already have the ingredients, you should begin,” he said.

Stiles took it, flipping the pages with practiced ease until it reached the Ritual. “Yeah,” he cropped his head up and Talia pointed at a large patch of moist grass where the Hive corpses had once stood, already turned to dust.

He smiled crookedly, shoulders jostling as he nodded. “Thanks,” he headed there when Deaton picked his familiar herb box from the back of his van.

Matt twisted Eric and her into another tight embrace after he’d checked over Laura. “Mattie, we’re all good,” she said just in case he didn’t believe it. Eric chuckled into Matt’s shoulder when Cora squealed at squish of cuddles she was receiving.

Her Brother backed off with a squeeze to their shoulders, pulling a face to entertain Cora further. “It’s really him, isn’t it, Derek?” he whispered as if anyone would find a secret in his words.

Talia nodded, feeling her smile soften with grief. “It’s him,” she agreed.

Matt fiddled with the rim of his large glasses, happily conceding room when Rebecca ducked under his arm. Her Pack watched the trio work alongside Deaton with smoking herbs and unintelligible words, until Talia tilted her head at the incoming Werewolves.

First the Beta – Boyd, she recalled – then Erica not a second later, and the angel-cheeked Werewolf arrived, each with younger versions of themselves, peacefully comatose and unawares.

The Hunter – Allison (an Argent, Talia truly wanted to understand how that happened) – urged them over, though the trio awaited Talia’s permission before crossing before her Pack. “If I had any doubts…” Matt muttered, flinging an arm to signal how they’d flown out.

She huffed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and nodded, the Beta’s passing towards the shape the Banshee marked upon the ground. They set their younger selves down in a row, departing again to retrieve others. Laura’s folded arms elbowed Peter, “They all smell like Derek,” she whispered.

Peter shrugged, fists buried in his pockets as per usual, all he missed was the put-off scowl. Talia smiled as she observed them, “He probably shifted them,” Peter shrugged. Yeah, Derek probably did.

 

Matt squeezed Rebecca closer, pride wafting off him and Rebecca checked his face to make certain it followed suit. It did and she grinned into his side, “Thanks Dad.” He merely beamed all the brighter.

The Hunter trotted over, keeping her fingers in view and giving them space. “We’ll need to put Derek down,” she nodded at where a formation was already beginning to glow in sharp rays of color.

Talia patted Eric’s arm as his concern sharpened, “I’ll go get him.” Cora whined as Eric bounced his heels, petting her dark locks. Her Brothers’ watched Talia enter, knowing this was the final mile.

She sucked in a deep breath of Pack and Home, attempting to calm that jittery adrenaline which told her to just fight it. But there’d been enough fighting to last them a long while.

Talia checked on Ma to find her traveled inside her own thoughts. She carried up the stairs, to the room where the entire Pack had congregated not a few hours earlier.

Derek’s scent dimmed in the swallow of others’ scents, his form unmoved for three silent days. Talia bowed over her Son, pressing a kiss to his forehead just below the line of his messy dark hair.

He’ll be alright. This would wake him up.

Talia tucked her Son into her arms, his head knocking lifelessly on her collar with shallow, cold breaths. Talia quieted her panic, it wouldn’t last long. She left the room, blindly tipping down the stairs to reach the morning flutter of fresh light and air.

The Banshee pointed, “His head needs to be exactly here.” Talia set Derek down, briefly eying the shimmering expanse of sickly sweet magic pulsating with each of the Mage’s breaths.

Wild Child and the Korean arrived, parking their smaller, pale versions besides each other and stepped inside the flashing triangle, facing the dimly breathing children. The Beta joined opposite his younger version’s form and a furious line burned through the soil to cut their position from the rest.

Stiles grunted as sweat acclimated upon his pale brow, worrying his bottom lip while he scrunched his eyes shut. “Three in the hole,” he muttered and remained seated in the center of the circulated triangular formation.

Magic’s scent was crisp and sickly sweet, scratching at the back of her throat but another scent accompanied it, flames and the herbs. Talia didn’t like it.

The Alpha appeared next, bursting into the field without precaution with his younger version in his arms. The kid had blue lips, jostling in the Alpha’s arm as he laid him out where the Banshee directed. He stepped inside and Stiles grunted again, nose scrunching as he bowed his head.

The Alpha was sealed off and Stiles peeked out from one eye, “Warn a dude, Scott.” The Alpha shrugged sheepishly but didn’t say anything in his defense. Peter snorted and Laura twisted her lips at him.

Erica and the Final Werewolf entered several minutes later with the smaller versions of the Banshee and the Hunter. Once set down, they bumped fists with grins – one wide and waggling while the other small and excited - and headed to the heels of their younger versions, the magic closing them in.

The Hunter stepped inside her triangle while the Banshee circled the formation for any imperfections. Laura came to her side, peering at the glowing magic with a crinkled nose.

Talia tilted her head back to catch the roar of an old car up their driveway, it wasn’t a welcome sound. “Hang on,” Stiles peeked. His iris a gleaming battle of purples, indigos and lilacs glazed with strain. “It’s just Derek and, uh shit, my Dad – shit.”

The Alpha twisted his neck to pin a concerned stare at Stiles. “Stiles –"

“It’s good, it’s all good,” he muttered. His thighs clenching as the magic pulsated quicker but he soothed it with deep forceful breaths, his neck muscles constricting. “All freaking dandy,” he muttered again.

At this point, her Son couldn’t afford any distractions. Talia stood beside the car creaking to a halt behind the Camaro. “Deputy,” she greeted. They were familiar through several social functions Talia had arranged and he was forced to attend.

He slammed the door shut, partially growling at his own force. There was a faint scent of alcohol on his clothes, almost hidden behind the overwhelming hospital smell. But he nodded back, “Mrs. Hale.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Talia explained, hiding her bloodied palms in a clasp behind her back.

Derek, because that was Derek, curled the younger version of Stiles into his neck. “I’ve been told,” the Deputy drawled, voice crackling in turmoil. Talia tightened the clasp behind her back, reigning in the urge for affection while Derek settled the younger version of Stiles inside the final triangle.  

The Formation glows sharpened, the scent sparkling up trouble and Stiles trembled at the center, form pallid and sweat on his brow.

The Banshee exhaled with relief, hurrying to her triangle to be cut out there. Derek was about to follow suit, and though it meant her Son returning it meant abandoning this Derek. She couldn’t just leave it like that.

“Hold on, dear!”

Derek didn’t dare flinch.

Was that…

Matt squawked, “Ma?” And that was definitely their Ma leaning against the entrance frame, standing up for all the world to witness. The world truly was full of surprises.

Ma made her swift way across the lawn to face Derek and Talia hunkered into Eric’s side, smile threatening to overtake he features. “Look at you,” Ma whispered, glinting orbs gazing way up to her grandson. Derek had gotten really tall, towering over the bundled white locks and while his shoulders were broad, Derek’s scent billowed over in terror.  

Talia couldn’t see Ma’s expression but Matt practically trembled beside her. “Hey Ma,” Derek whimpered, lips disengaged from the brightness of his orbs. Ma tilted her head, her white bundle drooping until she raised a weathered palm and Derek flinched.

Talia’s heart was stabbed, making it difficult to breathe. Derek couldn’t be that afraid of them.

Ma’s cupped Derek’s cheek. “Hello dear, look at you. All grown up,” she adduced. Ma carried on with an attentive smile, “You needn’t doubt, Derek. You are always a part of this Pack and we are extremely proud of the Were that stands here. Listen to an old wise Were about this,” Ma nodded importantly, “You’ve lived and loved. Hopefully you’ve found happiness, which is all any of us can hope.”

Derek looked vulnerable, gutted albeit still pleased about it beyond all recognition of semblance at those few words. These words shouldn’t be news to him. The world had failed him. They’d failed him.

Talia’s bloodied fingers smoothened over his tense shoulders and he stilled, unable to move for fear he’d destroy it. “Der, I’m so sorry,” Talia smiled over the tears in her gaze, “None of this is your fault. Don’t argue about this,” she added and Derek huffed, tension leaking out and his bright gaze never leaving hers like he’d suck them all into his vision to keep them safe for a little while longer.

There her Son stood.

Derek shivered under her hand, fingers flexing to deny the urge to touch them. Eric found them, clasped them tight, “We’re very pleased you have a Pack. All we ever want is for you to be safe and happy, you’re our son.”

Derek might be in shock. Talia pressed a palm to the side of his throat, “It isn’t your fault,” she insisted, the action drawing Derek in to believe it.

Eric braced his forehead on Derek’s temple, cradling an arm around his shoulders, “None of that is your fault,” he seconded. Her husband’s orbs were wet, “We love you so much.” Talia snuffled into his throat in agreement.

Laura whined, zooming into the fold to wrap them all in an embrace. Derek laughed, catching her around the shoulders, “You big nerd I love you,” she muttered into Derek’s blood soaked shirt.

Talia didn’t hesitate, children towards her chest and finding Eric’s strength at her side. Derek wormed an arm around Eric, clutching them tighter as if to drown in the scent of his family. “I’m just so sorry,” his voice muddled in the bracket of their bodies. “I really love you, please don’t forget, I really lo –"

His breath hitched as Cora bounded into his knees, Eric picking her up to set her on Derek’s shoulder, and Cora whimpered, snuggling her little nose under his ear.

A startled laugh fanned over Talia’s cheek as Matt bowled into them, their heavy scent encompassing in compassion and love. “I love you people so much,” Matt sniffled. Rebecca wormed in beside her Dad with a breathy grunt, completely relaxing inside the huddle.

“Love you too,” Derek breathed and Laura snickered, pleased, into Derek’s shoulder blade.

“Honestly darling,” Ma soothed, burying into the crook between Laura and Talia. “You’ve gotten so very tall,” she noted. Her white locks tilting loose over Derek’s other shoulder while Peter grumbled, sidling right up to huff all over Derek’s skin.

Talia’s skin tingled as their Links intertwined with warm dancing sprawls, breathy laughter filling her cheeks with the concentrated scent of an attentive and bonded Pack. It was stronger than she’d ever felt.

She silenced the never-ending wriggle of their bodies, finding the fleeting feel of Derek’s link. They didn’t have much time. Her Pack sensed the need for some air, still unwilled to go too far and relaxed from the packed fold to rest alongside each other.

Cora giggled as Derek rubbed their noses together, handing her back to Eric’s arms with bright orbs, his shoulders calmer and Talia hoped the happiness he’d cultivated would remain. “We’re always with you, when you need us,” Talia tucked Laura into her side, ribs painfully constricted as farewell was required.

Their Son nodded in content disbelief. Rebecca rapped her knuckles on his forearm, “You need to…” Rebecca’s nose scrunched, aimlessly sniffling, “You better get going.” She ducked her head, a tilted grin threatening to drown in tears until Mattie – thick glasses partially fogged – cradled her closer.

“Yeah,” Laura tried to snicker, “You heard Mini-Moo.” Rebecca didn’t scowl at the name, instead laughing teary-eyed, clasping her Dad’s shirt. Her Daughter seconds from dragging Derek back into the fray of cuddles, which Talia had to fight herself.

Derek and Laura shared a secretive grin, the duo basking as per usual. His gaze finding them as he shuffled back begrudgingly, “I love you,” he insisted again.

“We know,” Talia assured, “Now go.”

There were words in her heart, about taking care of himself and learning to love, of pride and happiness. Lessons she hadn't the chance to teach yet and wished her son know. Except, if she began she'd never end because the end would mean she have to let go of her son.

Derek grinned, eyelids crinkled and his stubble doing nothing to hide the dimples in his cheeks. He stepped inside the formation with fists clenched, forcing himself into position with sorrow frowning his brows and love quirking his lips.

At his entering the formation flared a bright lilac, Stiles sniffled back tears with an averted gaze, shifting to beam at them with a smile that graced the world. He mouthed, “Thank you,” to them. There were times where only certain people could suture certain wounds, and Talia was warmed that Stiles had at least tried.

He stood as the scent intensified, “You might want to stand back. It’ll get a little dangerous,” he stepped towards the heel of his younger version’s toes, and inhaled as he was cut from the form.

This was really it. And in fact, Talia was truly glad she’d met this Derek. He caught her sight, and she beamed, air in her lungs as Laura waved rapidly and Cora joined in atop Eric’s chest.

Stiles bright iris’ flashed lilac as a shiver descended upon his shoulders. His voice low, rasped with age and high with magic, head tipped sideways as if reading something off kilter – Stiles muttered.

At most Talia had heard Deaton mutter several words in the same language but even he didn’t seem to understand the ramble of words.

Cora babbled as the wind picked up, a whirl of lilacs and ambers sweeping at the Pack’s feet and a mired of colors bustled and whistled to trap their forms inwards. Over the bustle, Talia thinks she heard Stiles cry out, “It was nice meeting you!”

The Magic whistled, ancient hyper voices chanting out obscure mantras until they twisted in tighter with a high whistle. Her nose flared as the sickly-sweet scent erupted, flaring with a wide gust and Cora sneezed and Laura didn’t remove her gaze from Derek’s disappearing orbs. “Thank you!” she called.

The Magic pulsated, shrieking out as if to ward off attackers, and Talia ducked her head. Her exposed skin tingled, a sweet taste of confectioner’s sugar and honey on her lips.

Instinctively, Talia knew that Derek had left.

His link reduced to a frayed, withering length running towards their Son. The children remained silent and unconscious, the formation jittering with a buzzing life that clasped over their chests.

Her Son’s link jolted, as if wakening from a cold dream, suddenly bright and loud, firm in her grip. Talia squeezed Eric’s palm and laughed. Her Husband thrummed with excitement and hope.  

Derek shot upwards, chocking on a gasping heave, his back trembling from the force of his breaths. All the children heaved, or groaned into the ground, their jaws shaking and pale.

“Derek?” she whispered.

“Derek?” Stiles, his voice sharper and higher than it would become, questioned. He swiveled his head, blue lips breaking into a familiar beaming grin. “You're real? Derek!”

The Kid launched at her Son, “Stiles?” Derek breathed in surprise, tumbling with the Kid on his chest and succumbing to the suffocating hug with a tiny chuckle.

As if unleashed the Kids found each other, their fingers reaching to touch each other with a startled laugh. “That was the craziest dream,” the Boy who would become Alpha mumbled.

The girl who’d become a Hunter laughed from the Banshee’s side and the Boy, grabbed the Curly Haired Boy’s hesitant fingers. Erica, hair matted and long, scratched at her nose. “It wasn’t a dream,” she corrected and grinned at the Dark-Skinned hand fingering her locks.

It definitely hadn’t been a dream.

Derek sniffed the air and paused, tilting his head back to spot them. His bleary grin sharpened, relief and honest to goddess happiness wafting into her nose.

Their Son jostled Stiles up; laughing when he launched into his Dad’s shaking arms. Their Son piling into an embrace of laughter and hair ruffles, Talia snuffled right into his hair and all she received was a scent of pleased confidence.

It’d been so long since he’d allowed them to pull him close, to be Pack to him. Since he felt like he deserved it. “I’m fine,” he practically whined, and Talia laughed loud and pleased.

He was more than fine, Derek was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I know it ended really sappily but that's what you get from me, deal with it.  
> Hope you enjoyed! See you at the next one!

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me what you think, other two chapters should be out soon *peace out*
> 
> oh and yes, the title is a pun


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